Wizards and the Secrets Within
by TheHolland
Summary: WITHIN I HOLD SECRETS Returning to complete their third year at Hogwarts, Harry and Liam find themselves in something critically dangerous. A very old member at the school arrives to cause havoc amongst them all, meanwhile a plague is set through the school by a curious object. Apart from that, Sirius Black, a notorious criminal, breaks out of "inescapable" Azkaban after Harry.
1. Wizards and the Secrets Within

Wizards and the Secrets Within (Book Two)

Book Two, Year Three

WIZARDS AND THE SECRETS WITHIN

YEAR THREE

BOOK TWO

 **WITHIN** **I HOLD SECRETS**

William "Liam" Clark and Harry Potter are cousins curiously with the same fate. They met through a mishap caused by a mythical Mirror hidden within one of the chambers of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a wizarding school filled with multiple chambers, moving staircases and ghosts. Returning to complete their third year at Hogwarts, Harry and Liam find themselves in something critically dangerous. A very old member at the school arrives to cause havoc amongst them all, meanwhile a plague is set through the school by a curious object. Apart from that, Sirius Black, a notorious criminal said to be one of Lord Voldemort's favourites, breaks out of the seemingly inescapable Azkaban in order to hunt down Harry Potter.

 _... After a curious situation where a mirror brought the world to its original state, Harry Potter meets up with his long-lost cousin, Liam Clark. They both have a lightning scar on their foreheads, they both have the same birthday and they both had their lives ruined by a dark lord. But now that they know each other, Harry and Liam are trying to be as close to a family as it can get, whilst figuring out about a seemingly lethal plague and awaiting the notorious Sirius Black to arrive for Harry Potter's head._

 ** _PRIOR BOOKS:_**

 ** _Wizards and the Mirror of Emulation (Book One, Year Two)_**


	2. The Knight Bus

CHAPTER ONE

The Knight Bus

 _BANG! CLATTER! BOOM!_

Harry never remembered boarding a bus so rowdy before in his life. Then again, he has never recalled ever seeing one purple before. Nor has he ever stepped into one that had no seats. Nope, this bus had half a dozen brass bedsteads standing beside curtained windows instead. Candles burned in brackets beside each bed, illuminating the wood-panelled walls. Harry spotted a tiny wizards sleeping at the rear of the bus, with a nightcap on muttering, "Not now, thanks, I'm pickling some slugs."

"You 'ave this one," boomed a voice behind him. A young man shoved Harry's trunk under the bed right behind the driver, who sat on an armchair behind the wheel. Stan Shunpike was the conductor of this peculiar bus. He seemed not much older than Harry was. About eighteen. A number of pimples covered his face and his ears were large; they had protruded. "This is our driver, Ernie Prang. Ern, this is, err, woss your name again?"

"Neville. Neville Longbottom," said Harry.

Ernie Prang grunted and nodded at Harry. He was a rather elderly wizard and wore very thick glasses. Harry nervously flattened his bangs and sat down on his bed.

"Right, Ern, take 'er away," said Stan. He then sat on an armchair beside Ernie's.

 _BANG!_

Harry was thrown back flat on his bed by the speed of the bus. He pulled himself back up and stared out of the dark window. Harry was amazed to see that they were now streaming along an entirely different street. Apparently, Stan found Harry's astounded face quite interesting to see from his seat.

"Woss that on your 'ead?" asked Stan from where he sat.

"Nothing!" Harry flattened his bangs again. "So — so this bus," he went on quickly, hoping to distract Stan, "did you say it goes _anywhere?_ _"_

"Any cooky ol' street ... any bright-eyed area ..." said Stan. "Although this bus ain't any good underwater. You _did_ flag us down, dincha? Stuck out your wand 'and, dincha?"

"Yes," said Harry. "Listen, how much would it be to get to London?"

"Eleven Sickles," said Stan, "but for firteen you get 'ot chocolate, and for fifteen you get an 'ot water bottle an' a toofbrush in the colour of your choice."

Once Harry fished out some silver coins, he shoved them into Stan's hand. The bus was silent for a moment and Harry looked out the dark window again. An odd feeling tickled inside of him; the feeling of being watched. Stan was still looking at him from his armchair. Harry would occasionally steal a glance to the side of him, where Ernie sat. From the dark window Harry was able to see things whizzing passed. Then something bright began to stir. Two round lights blinked brightly from the middle. Harry squinted, they looked like the pair of eyes he saw in the alleyway in Magnolia Crescent. The large, hulking outline of the creature he saw drew itself on the surface of the cold window. Harry blinked ... and it was gone.

He turned his head back to Stan, who had been searching in a bulking bag lying on the floor just below him. "How come Muggles don't hear the bus?" asked Harry. He thought maybe talking to Stan might entertain him enough to waste the time.

"Don' listen properly, do they?" asked Stan. "Don' look properly either. Never notice nuffink, they don'."

"Best go wake up Madam Marsh, Stan," said Ernie in a crusty voice. "We'll be in Abergavenny in a minute. Oh, and mind you do the same with the old pokey fella with the squashed face ... Mr Holland his name was. Tell 'im we'll be in Shepston Simmons in a bit."

Stan stood and walked passed Harry's bed. He disappeared up a wooden narrow staircase. Harry felt nervous. He also thought that having Stan as company would help him forget what he had done about half an hour ago.

The Ministry's coming after me! Harry thought. How could they not? Last year he got a warning for breaking the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry for doing a spell he didn't even cast. Dobby the House-elf met him that day and was responsible for casting a Hover Charm in the Dursleys' house. It cost Harry both the warning and no access to anything in that home except for the limited things he had in his bedroom. His window was sealed closed and his door multi-locked. This year, his Uncle Vernon's sister, Aunt Marge, had come to visit.

Harry remembered how much better it was before Aunt Marge's visit. Ron had nearly cost him another punishment for he decided to give a telephone a go. He had called the Dursleys' home and shouted into the receiver when Uncle Vernon answered. Ron made the mistake of saying that he was a friend of Harry's from school, for Uncle Vernon had hastily said that there was no such person called Harry Potter in their home and hung up.

When his birthday arrived, however, another call came. When Uncle Vernon answered he said that it was a London police officer claiming that they were looking for Harry Potter. The name hadn't slipped up, but that never would peak Vernon Dursley when it may have involved Harry and the police. Harry remembered feeling a moment's unpleasantness when he approached the phone and saw Uncle Vernon's nasty grin. Uncle Vernon left and Harry reluctantly put the phone to his ear. The unpleasant feeling vanished when he heard a chorus of "Happy Birthday" booming through the receiver. It was the Clarks. They seemed as though they were more acquaintance with the likes of the telephone than the Weasleys had been, and they knew the Dursleys a lot more, too.

Harry was pleased after that call. He learnt that their present to him, which was a photo frame containing moving pictures of the full family, would be arriving with a peculiar snowy owl later that day. Sure enough, the owl was peculiar; it had black patches all over it, and one in particular lay over its eye. He apparently belonged to Liam, who had called him Patches because of the black spots. He felt a bit guilty for not getting Liam anything for his birthday, which was mysteriously on his, but he noted that he would eventually get something for him.

Three other owls arrived with Patches, one was his own, Hedwig, and the other he recognised to be Errol, the Weasleys' moulting, grey owl Harry first thought was a feather duster before finding that it was actually breathing. With Errol, who had been unconscious upon his arrival, came a parcel, a letter and a news report. Harry opened the news report first after carrying Errol to Hedwig's cage, where the owl then came back to life to weakly drink some water. The news report had shown a large picture of the Weasley family in front of what seemed to be a pyramid. The article read:

 _ **MINISTRY OF MAGIC EMPLOYEE SCOOPS GRAND PRIZE**_

 _Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle_ _Artefacts_ _Office at the Ministry of Magic, has won the annual_ DailyProphet _Grand Prize Galleon Draw._

 _A delighted Mr_ _Weasley told the Daily Prophet,_ _"_ _We will be spending the gold on a summer holiday in Egypt, where our eldest son, Bill, works as a curse breaker for Gringotts Wizarding Bank._ _"_

 _The Weasley family will be spending a month in Egypt, returning for the_ _start of the new school year at Hogwarts, which five of the Weasley children currently attend._

Harry recalled seeing all nine of the Weasleys waving at him. Plump Mrs Weasley; tall, balding Mr Weasley; six sons; and one daughter. Ron was in the middle of the picture, standing tall and gangling, with his pet rat, Scabbers, on his shoulder and his arm around Ginny, his little sister. Harry couldn't think of anyone who deserved to win a large pile of gold more than the Weasleys, who were very nice and extremely poor.

He then remembered picking up Ron's letter next.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _Happy birthday!_

 _Look, I_ _'_ _m really sorry about that telephone call. I hope the Muggles didn_ _'_ _t give you a hard time. I asked Dad, and he reckons I shouldn_ _'_ _t have shouted._

 _It_ _'_ _s amazing here in Egypt. Bill_ _'_ _s taken us around all the tombs and you wouldn_ _'_ _t believe the curses those old Egyptian wizards put on them. Mum wouldn_ _'_ _t let Ginny come in the last one. There were all these mutant skeletons in there, of Muggles who_ _'_ _d broken in and grown extra heads and stuff._

 _I couldn_ _'_ _t believe it when Dad won the_ DailyProphet _Draw. Seven hundred galleons! Most of it_ _'_ _s gone on this trip, but they_ _'_ _re going to buy me a new wand for next year._

Reading that part had Harry remembering their little detour into the Whomping Willow. That trip had Ron break his wand in the process of trying to sneak out. That was the first and undoubtedly last time they would drive to Hogwarts, mainly because the Ford Anglia they drove went wandering into the Forbidden Forest.

 _We_ _'_ _ll be back about a week before term starts and we_ _'_ _ll be going up to London to get my wand and our new books. Any chance of meeting you there?_

 _Don_ _'_ _t let the Muggles get you down!_

 _Try and come to London,_

 _Ron_

 _PS. Percy_ _'_ _s Head Boy. He got the letter last week._

Harry remembered Ron's older brother Percy. He was, Harry was sure, the only Weasley that took everything seriously. Mr Weasley wasn't even near as bossy as he was, he thought it was rather interesting when Fred, George and Ron flew Harry to The Burrow rather than being upset. Harry sure thought Percy earned it, though. Percy always had his hair combed neatly, and he wore horn-rimmed glasses.

Harry then opened the parcel, the present Ron had gotten him. It apparently was a Sneakoscope, which was an object that would light up and spin in the presence of someone untrustworthy. Ron had said that it kept going off during dinner the day he got it and his brother Bill said it was rubbish because of it. Ron still gave it to Harry because he knew Fred and George had put beetles in Bill's soup.

Harry opened the next letter, which was from Hermione, which was brought to him by Hedwig.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _Ron wrote to me and told me about his phone call to your Uncle Vernon. I do hope you_ _'_ _re all right._ _And just to clarify, I have written to Liam for his birthday, too. Which means that our rivalry has come to an end._

 _I_ _'_ _m on holiday in France at the moment and I didn_ _'_ _t know how I was going to send this to you_ _—_ _what if they_ _'_ _d opened it at customs?_ _—_ _but then Hedwig turned up! I think she wanted to make sure you got something for your_ _birthday for a change. I bought your present by owl-order; there was an advertisement in the_ DailyProphet _(I_ _'_ _ve been getting it delivered; it_ _'_ _s so good to keep up with what_ _'_ _s going on in the wizarding world). Did you see that picture of Ron and his family a week ago? I bet he_ _'_ _s learning loads. I_ _'_ _m really jealous_ _—_ _the ancient Egyptian wizards were fascinating._

 _There_ _'_ _s some interesting local history of witchcraft here, too. I_ _'_ _ve rewritten my whole History of Magic essay to include some of the things I_ _'_ _ve found out. I hope it_ _'_ _s not too long_ _— it's two_ _rolls of parchment more than Professor Binns_ _and Professor Von Seiler_ _asked for._

 _Ron says he_ _'_ _s going to be in London in the last week of the holidays. Can you make it? Will your aunt and uncle let you come? I really hope you can. If not, I_ _'_ _ll see you on the Hogwarts Express on September first!_

 _Love from_

 _Hermione_

 _PS. Ron says Percy_ _'_ _s Head Boy. I_ _'_ _ll bet Percy_ _'_ _s really pleased_ _. Ron doesn't seem too happy about it. And say Happy Birthday to your cousin for me._

Hermione had given him a broomstick servicing kit for his Nimbus Two-Thousand. He at first thought that it was a heavy book, knowing Hermione, but was glad that it wasn't. Tessa had sent him a book, though, but it was one about Quidditch as well so he didn't really mind. Callum sent a quill that would write what he pleased in the limit of fifty-thousand roles of parchment. He thought that would really come in handy some day.

Harry also got a present from Hagrid and Dreagon, the Keepers of the Keys at Hogwarts. They lived in a hut near the Forbidden Forest. Harry remembered fearing what might have been inside the parcel. It was a book. A handsome green cover book emblazoned with the golden title _The Monster Book of Monster._ Harry had to catch it in order to get it back, and forced it into his trunk. He read the letter from Hagrid and Dreagon thinking that his two large friends had gone mad.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _Happy birthday!_

 _Think you might find this useful for next year._

 _Won_ _'_ _t say no more here. Tell you when_ _we_ _see you._

 _Hope the Muggles are treating you right._

 _All the best,_

 _Hagrid & Dreagon_

Then there was a letter from Hogwarts that had Harry meeting the realm of anxiety.

 _Dear Mr. Potter,_

 _Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King_ _'_ _s Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o_ _'_ _clock._

 _Third years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign._

 _A list of books for next year is enclosed._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Professor M. McGonagall_ _ & E. McDonald_

 _Deputy Headmistress_ _es_

He had no clue as to how he would get his Hogsmeade letter signed ... and he never did. He was most anxious about bringing this to them, because he knew the Dursleys disliked him so much that they wouldn't do it, so he found another way. He tried to manipulate them into signing it. He said that he would behave himself when Aunt Marge came over and in return, the Dursleys would have to sign the letter that would allow him to enter Hogsmeade. But the turnout was not so great, and Harry's Hogsmeade letter was not signed – thanks to Aunt Marge.

Aunt Marge had pushed the limit! She had gotten a little too drunk that night, it had her blown up to the size of a large, large beach ball. Harry didn't know how he did it but he knew it was because she had driven out all the hot boiled anger that he tried to conceal for the sake of his visits to Hogsmeade. Soon after, however, reality began to dawn on Harry, for he knew about the consequences of breaking the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry. He could be kicked out of Hogwarts if the Ministry caught up with him.

Stan came back and sat back down on his armchair beside Ernie. He unfurled a copy of the _Daily Prophet._ He was reading it with his tongue between his teeth. Harry glanced at the front cover. A large photograph of a sunken-faced man with long, matted hair blinked at him. He looked oddly familiar.

"That man! On the front cover! He looks familiar!" said Harry, pointing to the front cover. "He was on Muggle news, wasn't he?"

"Who?" Stanley turned to the front page. "Sirius Black? 'Course 'e was on the Muggle news, Neville, where you been?"

Stan snickered at Harry's blank expression. He was rather amused at how much he knew about the supposed notorious man on the front cover. He removed the front page and gave it to Harry, who took it and shook it straight.

 _ **BLACK STILL AT LARGE**_

 _Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is still eluding capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today._

" _We are doing all we can to recapture Black,_ _"_ _said the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning,_ _"_ _and we beg the magical community to remain calm._ _"_

 _Fudge has been_ _criticised_ _by some members of the International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis._

" _Well, really, I had to, don_ _'_ _t you know,_ _"_ _said an irritable Fudge._ _"_ _Black is mad. He_ _'_ _s a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister_ _'_ _s assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black_ _'_ _s true identity to anyone. And let_ _'_ _s face it_ _—_ _who_ _'_ _d believe him if he did?_ _"_

 _Some are even wondering where the Prime Minister is in all of this. Surely Eric Cornel would have wanted to tend to this kind of business if it is bothering the public like this. Fudge claims to have consulted him about this but there is no evidence proving that Cornel has taken action._

 _While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (a kind of metal wand that Muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse._

"Scary-lookin' fing, inee?" Stan asked. He had been watching Harry read.

"He murdered thirteen people?" asked Harry, eyes bulging, "with _one_ curse."

"Yep," said Stan, "in front of witnesses an' all. Broad daylight. Big trouble it caused, dinnit, Ern?"

"Ar," said Ern darkly.

"Black woz a big supporter of You-Know-'Oo ... and Mr 'Oo" he said.

"What, Voldemort and Valindor?" said Harry, without thinking.

Even Stan's pimples went white; Ern jerked the steering wheel.

"You outta your tree?" yelped Stan. " 'Choo say 'is name for?"

"Sorry," said Harry hastily. "Sorry, I — I forgot —"

"Forgot!" said Stan weakly. "Blimey, my 'eart's goin' outta here …"

"So — so Black was a supporter of Mr Who and He Who Must Not Be Names?" Harry added to avoid further comments to his sudden outburst of the Dark Lord's names.

"Yeah," said Stan, still rubbing his chest. "Yeah, that's right. Very close to You-Know-'Oo's, they say. Anyway, when little 'Arry Potter got the better of You-Know-'Oo —"

Harry nervously flattened his bangs down again.

"— all You-Know-'Oo's supporters was tracked down, wasn't they, Ern? Same went with Mr 'Oo's. Most of 'em knew it was all over, wiv their masters gone, and they came quiet. But not Sirius Black. I 'eard he thought 'e'd be second-in-command once them Dark Lords 'ad taken over.

"Anyway, they cornered Black in the middle of a street full of Muggles an' Black took out 'is wand and 'e blasted 'alf the street apart, an' a wizard got it, an' so did a dozen Muggles what got in the way. 'Orrible, eh? An' you know what Black did then?" Stan continued in a dramatic whisper.

"What?" said Harry.

" _Laughed,_ _"_ said Stan. "Jus' stood there an' laughed. An' when reinforcements from the Ministry of Magic got there, 'e went wiv 'em quiet as anyfink, still laughing 'is 'ead off. 'Cos 'e's mad, inee, Ern? Inee mad?"

"Ar," said Ernie simply. "Serves him right, mind you. Deserves what he got ..." and he made a sharp turn up a dark alleyway in order to avoid traffic. It, however, appeared to have zoomed passed in mere seconds.

"The Ministry had to keep them Muggles out of track, didn't they, Ern? Had to cover up a story to keep them out of news of Sirius Black," said Stan. "What did they say happened, Ern?"

"Gas explosion," grumbled Ernie.

"An' now 'e's out," said Stan. "Never been a breakout from Azkaban before, 'as there, Ern? Beats me 'ow 'e did it. Frightenin', eh? Mind, I don't fancy 'is chances against them Azkaban guards, eh, Ern?"

"If you don' include Venus Sting ..." Harry's stomach gave an unpleasant jerk. Venus Sting was his and Liam's godfather and the last he checked he was caught by the Ministry of Magic about to be sentenced to Azkaban Prison for life again. Liam said his parents had earned him a trial before, and that they were representing him. The Clarks didn't want him going off to jail once again, it didn't seem fair.

"Didn' he get let off, Ern. Them Clarks proved to the Ministry that 'e was innocent, that 'e wasn't a follower of the Dark Lords?" said Stan.

"Ar," said Ernie. "He still had their mark on his arm, he did. The Clarks had a lot up against that. Eventually the Ministry just couldn' figure out why they were trying to defend a man who was planning to kill their boy Liam. So ol' Fudge an' Cornel let him go ... set him free."

"Wait, so Venus Sting's a free man, now?" asked Harry, a certain kind of euphoria rushing through him. "What about the many people he killed? How'd they prove he didn't kill anyone?"

"The Ministry 'ad ol' Garrick Ollivander in, didn' they, Ern? 'ad him search that wand to its last extent. 'E couldn' find anything relatin' to a Killin' Curse and Cornel and Fudge forced 'im to strip it down to a twig. There's nuffink left of it now. Sting 'ad to buy another one when 'e was set free," said Stan. "Though, the public ain't too happy 'bout lettin' him roam free like that, so 'e's told us that 'e'll be doin' someffink to prove that 'e's innocent."

"What is it?" asked Harry.

"Dunno. 'E 'asn't said anyffink since," said Stan. "Can't say where 'e's livin' either. Probably in the Clarks' ol' manor. 'Course, no one knows where that is, now do they, Ern?"

"Those Clarks are very secretive, Neville," said Ernie. "They know their stuff, they do. People whip up a Polyjuice Potion in two months ... _HA_ ... them Clarks can do it in under two weeks! But they won't tell anyone where they live. Probably because it's somewhere in the Muggle World. An' you know how Purebloods react to higher lives livin' in the Muggle World. They think they're no good, they do."

"Why?" asked Harry.

"Well, they're Purebloods. They fink they've got all the brains, they've even come up wiv the theory tha' Angela Clark is the brains behind the family because she's Pureblood ..." Harry's mind immediately went to the Malfoys. He could see them right now, saying those words. But they were wrong and Harry knew it, because _Mr-Very-Secretive-Clark_ was probably all the brain. He had a whole floor dedicated to his office in the Clark Manor. "They would never 'ave thought Thomas Clark would come up wiv anyffink because 'e's a Muggle-born –"

"I've got a Muggle-born friend, and she's the smartest in our year," said Harry.

"Tell that to them Purebloods, Neville, they ought to be set straight," said Stan. "Though, you wouldn't really pass Thomas Clark as the dummy type, 'e's quite smart. And the way 'e goes on about his son, kinda makes him seem quite smart too, 'ey, Ern?" Harry smiled at that. Liam was smart, but more blunders and jokes than anything. He's more of a brown-haired Ron than a male version of Hermione.

A few moments later, Stan put away the _Daily Prophet_ and began to doze off. His purple hat over his eyes. Harry lay against the window, heart thumping. He thought that breaking the Decree might be an equivalent to what Sirius Black had done. He could just imagine himself in wizard prison, even though he didn't quite know what it was like. Although he knew it couldn't be good. He remembered seeing Hagrid and Dreagon's faces when they were told they'd be heading there last year. They were dreading it, and they were considered one of the bravest people Harry knew.

The Knight Bus whirred passed houses and lampposts, mailboxes and telephone booths. One after the other, wizards and witches from the upper levels were leaving, and were happy about it. When they reached a lonely village, one wizard in particular looked rather green when he ran off the bus, rushing for the cover of his home.

"Right, Neville," said Stan, clapping his hands as Harry was the last passenger in the bus, "whereabouts in London?"

"Diagon Alley," said Harry.

"Righto," said Stan. " 'Old tight, then …"

 _BANG!_

Harry was planning out his life as a fugitive as the dark night began to grow lighter. He would lay low, probably seek shelter in a pub or inn nearby, and then get some money from Gringotts the minute it opened. Afterwards he'd be off to wherever. He didn't know where but hoped that somewhere would benefit him.

Ernie slammed on the brakes and Harry nearly went flying. The Knight Bus skidded to a halt in front of a small, shabby-looking pub Harry knew to be the Leaky Cauldron, which hid the entrance to Diagon Alley. Harry got up and began to walk to the door whilst Stan got out his trunk and Hedwig's cage.

"Thanks," said Harry as he went down the steps and onto the pavement. "Well, bye, then ..."

Stan, however, was not listening. He stood, goggling at the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron, which was shadowed over and forgotten by the nearby street lights.

" _There_ you are, Harry," said a voice.

Before Harry could turn to look at who talked, he felt a hand clap onto his shoulder. Stan began to shout.

" 'Ey, Ern, come 'ere! Come 'ere!"

Harry followed the length of the man's arm until he met his face. As soon as his eyes made contact with the man's face, multiple handfuls of ice filled him up – he had just walked into Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic.

Stan jumped down from the bus and landed on the pavement beside Harry and Cornelius Fudge, who had been a portly man with a long pinstripe cloak and a lime-green bowler hat tucked away under his arm.

"What didja call Neville, Minister?" he said excitedly.

"Neville?" he repeated, frowning. "This is Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived ... well, one of them."

"I knew it!" Stan shouted. "Ern! Ern! Guess 'oo Neville is, Ern! 'E's 'Arry Potter! I can see 'is scar!"

"Yes, and that, over there is William Clark. Nothing to fuss about," said Fudge impatiently pointing to the boy behind him, who had been leaning against the wall next to the door leading into the Leaky Cauldron, "well, I'm very glad the Knight Bus picked Harry up, but he and I need to step inside the Leaky Cauldron now …"

Fudge added pressure onto Harry's shoulder and Harry found himself turning to face the entrance. There stood Liam Clark, his cousin, leaning on the wall of the Leaky Cauldron. His brown hair long and curly, blue eyes deep and bright. He bore a rather large smile on his face. Why would he have a smile on his face? Could it be that he was happy Harry was going to be expelled? Could it be that he thought there was only enough space for one Boy Who Lived in this world? Can't be, right? Harry thought to himself.

And then Harry was inside the pub. A figure, looking as though he was haunched, came from the door behind the bar. Harry recognised him as Tom, the shrivelled, toothless landlord.

"You got him, Minister!" said Tom. Harry thought there was something in his voice that almost sounded menacing, as though they were hoping they'd catch him, as though they were hoping they'd catch the infamous Harry Potter. "Will you be wanting anything? Beer? Brandy?"

"Perhaps a pot of tea," said Fudge, and then he looked at his watch. "Oh, and maybe a _private_ parlour ... And could it be possible if you maybe bring in that assortment of potions Mr and Mrs Clark brought in when they had dropped off Liam. It's about time he took his next dosage, isn't that right, Liam?"

"That's right," said Liam, looking at his own watch. "You may want to say goodbye to your little friends there, _Neville ..."_ added Liam with a mischievous smile, pointing at Ern and Stan, who had left Harry's trunk and Hedwig's owl cage by the entrance and were waving at Harry.

" 'Bye, then," said Harry weakly, quickly turning around once he had said so.

" 'Bye, Neville!" said Stan, loudly.

"Quickly, now!" pressed Fudge. "On we go!"

Fudge took Harry by his shoulder and pulled him ahead of him. He steered him along a narrow passage, following Tom's lantern, which then turned into a small parlour. There was a loud creaking noise and Harry saw a door open. Tom's fingers clicked and a fire burst into life in the grate. He clicked his fingers again and above them, Harry noticed, a weaved tray, balancing a various amount of different potions, soared through the sky and landed itself on a coffee table nearby. Harry then heard a loud cough crack through the air. Tom bowed and was out of the room.

"Liam, mind you sit near me ... Harry, you can sit down," said Fudge, indicating a chair just across from his.

Harry sat and felt goose bumps prickling up his bare arms. Once placing his pinstriped cloak aside, Fudge sat down across from Harry and beside Liam, who had seized a bottle of a green potion. Fudge looked at Liam a bit peaked.

"Was it not the blue potion first?" asked Fudge.

"No," said Liam, "it's the green. We started the process before we came to you."

"Well, you know it better, I guess," said Fudge. Then he sat straight and faced Harry, who saw Liam pour a cap-full of the potion into the cap. Liam downed the peculiar green liquid and Fudge began to speak, "I am Cornelius Fudge, Harry. The Minister of Magic."

Harry didn't need any introductions, he already knew who Cornelius Fudge was. He was wearing his father's Cloak of Invisibility the first time he saw him. Harry saw Liam was now unscrewing the cap of the blue potion, looking utterly disgusted by it.

"Is it really essential that I have to drink this?" asked Liam.

"Your parents did say that every single one of these potions had to go down, Liam," said Fudge. "Besides, whatever it is that's wrong with you, the Byrrus Potion will fix you up in a jiffy. It does with everything else."

"I've been taking it for more than three weeks now," said Liam. "I don't think this Byrrus Potion is that good." He filled the cap of the potion and downed it, screwing his face as the liquid trickled down his throat.

"Now onto the Tago Potion ... that dark red one ..." Fudge was pointing at a potion with a blood-red colour, and then he, himself, screwed his face up. "Pokes, that one does, doesn't it?"

"Oh, a lot, Minister," said Liam. He repeated the process again, and this time he looked as though he was choking.

"Pardon your cousin, Harry, he's fallen a bit sick," said Fudge. "No one knows what's wrong with him but his parents managed to fashion some things that may channel it. It's not contagious because of these potions, luckily."

Harry saw Liam mixing three other potions in one cap, and then he drank the mixture, this time with a mask of true pleasure. Fudge's eyes were now fixed on Harry again. He began to pour tea. Tom the landlord kept popping in for requests or with trays of biscuits.

"Tea, Liam?" asked Fudge.

"Yes, please," said Liam. "It'll be something good to wash down this dreadful taste."

"Well, Harry," said Fudge not looking up from his process of pouring tea, "you're a bit of a runner, skipping your aunt and uncle's place, aren't you? Liam's parents stayed a while to see if you would be coming in. They were rather hoping, I think ... which reminds me, Tom –" said Fudge as Tom came sweeping in again, "please do me a favour and send the Clarks an owl stating that Harry arrived here safe and sound, thank you." Tom scuttled out in a rush.

"Crumpet?" asked Fudge, now starting to butter himself one. Harry shook his head. "No? Crumpet, Liam?" Liam shook his head too, but took a sip of his tea. "Well, onto business, then. You will be pleased to hear that we have dealt with the unfortunate blowing-up of Miss Marjorie Dursley. Two members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad were dispatched to Privet Drive a few hours ago. Miss Dursley has been punctured and her memory has been modified. She has no recollection of the incident at all. So that's that, and no harm done."

Fudge smiled at Harry, who kept looking from him to his cousin. He didn't get this, Fudge should be preparing shackles, readying Harry to be shipped off to jail. Otherwise he should be reading out a letter stating that Harry was expelled from Hogwarts. He opened his mouth to speak but found that he could not say anything, so he instead closed it.

"Ah, you're worrying about the reaction of your aunt and uncle?" said Fudge. "Well, I won't deny that they are extremely angry, Harry, but they are prepared to take you back next summer as long as you stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas and Easter holidays."

"I do that anyway," said Harry. "I don't want to go back there! I don't want to go back to Privet Drive again!"

"Now, now, I'm sure you'll feel differently once you've calmed down," said Fudge. "They are your family, after all, and I'm sure you are fond of each other — er — very deep down." Liam scoffed. Harry almost felt the urge to do it, too. "So all that remains," said Fudge, now buttering himself a second crumpet, "is to decide where you're going to spend the last three weeks of your vacation. I suggest you take a room here at the Leaky Cauldron and —"

"Wait, aren't you going to punish me?" asked Harry.

"Punish you! Why would there be a need to punish you?" said Fudge.

"I broke the law!" Harry said. "The Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry!"

"Oh, my dear boy, we're not going to punish you for a little thing like that!" cried Fudge. "It was an accident! We don't send people to Azkaban just for blowing up their aunts!"

Harry could see Liam silently snickering to himself. However, it was still rather confusing due to what happened last year.

"Last year, I got an official warning just because a house-elf smashed a pudding in my uncle's house!" he told Fudge, frowning. Liam burst into an array of laughs, squirming and writhing in his seat as though some invisible hand had been tickling him and he was trying to provoke himself from laughing. "The Ministry of Magic said I'd be expelled from Hogwarts if there was any more magic there!"

"Circumstances change, Harry. … We have to take into account … in the present climate … Surely you don't want to be expelled?"

"Of course I don't," said Harry.

"Well then, what's all the fuss about?" laughed Fudge. "Now, have a crumpet, Harry, while I go and see if Tom's got a room for you."

Fudge stood and strode out of the parlour. Harry stared after him until he was out of sight, and then he looked at his cousin, who didn't look very sick at all.

"You're sick?" asked Harry.

"Not that much, anymore," said Liam, taking another sip of his tea. "It happened about three weeks ago, when dad had a friend over. After that, mum began working on some potions that may help. So far all they've done is prevent the frequency of coughing and stopped the contagious levels. I have to take all of this," he pointed at the weaved tray of potions, "every five hours. We started a little late this morning."

Fudge came back, accompanied by Tom the innkeeper.

"Room eleven's free, Harry. Turns out your aunt and uncle had that one reserved for you two," said Fudge. "I think you two will be very comfortable. Just one thing, and I'm sure you'll understand … I don't want you wandering off into Muggle London, all right? Keep to Diagon Alley. And you're to be back here before dark each night. Sure you'll understand, Tom will be keeping an eye on you for me."

"Okay," said Harry slowly, "but why — ?"

"Don't want to lose you again, do we?" said Fudge. "No, no … best we know where you are. … I mean … Well, I'll be off, plenty to do, you know …"

"Have you had any luck with Black yet?" Harry asked.

Liam choked on the little amount of tea he had left. Fudge's fingers slipped on the silver fastenings of his cloak.

"I take it you've heard," said Fudge, nervously, "well, no, not yet, but it's only a matter of time. The Azkaban guards have never yet failed … and they are angrier than I've ever seen them."

Fudge shuddered slightly.

"So, I'll say good-bye."

" 'Bye," said Liam. And Fudge was off.


	3. The Leaky Cauldron

CHAPTER TWO

The Leaky Cauldron

This had never happened before. Harry had no such freedom to do whatever he wanted. The limitations on what he used to live like became like a mere thought, thrown out of mind and never remembered again. The only thing was that they had to be in Diagon Alley. But that was beside the point. This time they had no one looking after them. They were allowed to roam around Diagon Alley without a single pair of eyes on them. The only time they had adult supervision was when they were in the Leaky Cauldron, the place they were residing in for over a week. Most of their money was being spent on things like ice-cream, sweets from a nearby sweet shop by the Apothecary, and funny little objects from a place called Charlie Trinket's, which was a small shop stationed just before the turn into Knockturn Alley, right next to Florean Forstecue's Ice-Cream Parlour.

The two of them vowed that when it came too close to the start of school, they would both go shopping for their requirements. For now, they just kept stacking on sweets and odd objects. Liam was kind of used to the feeling. Living in the Leaky Cauldron was like stepping down the stairs of his unusually quiet mansion. Well, it wasn't always quiet, there usually was the sizzling sound of whatever kind of food his mother was cooking. However, he had the right to do whatever pleased him ... so long as it was out of sight and the mess he made wasn't big enough for his parents to see.

They'd have breakfast in the Leaky Cauldron, bid Tom, the landlord, goodbye and then head out to the backyard. They took turns to tap the third brick from the left above the trash revealing the winding streets of Diagon Alley. Visiting shops and purchasing items was what pilfered their time day and night. Most of the customers around them were muttering on about the notorious Sirius Black, the only jail breaker out of Azkaban Prison.

They had to understand Venus and Wigan's method of Azkaban being broken in half as well. Since the Mauris Unicae had split the Wizarding World, Azkaban had been split along with it. However, the jail remained intact and impregnable. Kazaban was the name they decided to go by in "Liam's side of the world" before he and Ron had stuck the world back together. Before they met the Mirror of Emulation, Venus Sting broke out of Kazaban Prison, presumably to kill Liam. when the time came, all Sting came to do was tell Liam and Harry that he was their godfather. Because Sting only broke out before Ron and Liam met, Azkaban remained untouched.

Harry couldn't figure out why his aunt and uncle were off someplace else when they should have been looking after them; considering the way they reacted when Venus Sting still was a fugitive. Which then reminded him about Sting's trial.

"Relax. Venus is free now," said Liam. "Dad and Mum can win anyone over if they tried. All they had to do was provide enough proof that he wasn't one of the Dark Lords' followers and he was free to go. Of course, Dad would have wanted me to have a little bit of a laugh. So he instead told me that he knocked Fudge and Cornel unconscious, erased some person's memory –– I think her name's Amanda or Amelia Bones or something like it. He then said that he changed Venus's status to "free" and ran off. Mum then thumped him on the back of his head and told me the truth," Liam explained as they were walking towards Florean Fortsecue's Ice-Cream Parlour, their usual hotspot.

"And what about your parents? Where are they?" asked Harry as they were making their way passed the Apothecary and the Cauldron Shop.

"Rome." Harry stopped abruptly, frowning.

"Why?" asked Harry.

"Well I'm not quite sure, this involves the _Mr-Very-Secretive-Clark_ side of dad, and you know how he gets whenever that side of him comes out." Harry sure did. Although he never really stayed at the Clark Mansion long enough to experience the whole process, he did, however, know that his Uncle Tom spent most of his time locked up in an office neither him nor Liam have seen. Whatever he has in there was obviously quite odd because Harry recalled Liam once saying that he came out covered in green goo and smelt of frog for a week.

"What I do know, though," continued Liam, "is that a Muggle friend of Dad's came around at the beginning of the holidays. His son was one of Dad's patients, managed to recover from cancer is what I heard. Anyway, his friend came over after a fishing trip with his son and brought a chest with him."

"A chest?" asked Harry.

"Yeah, this big, old treasure chest. Dad said it was pure gold. I've never seen it, though," said Liam. "Dad hasn't given me a proper explanation as to why I'm not allowed to see it. But he's Dad, so you know him."

"Yep." They were passing Quality Quidditch Supplies, which was hoarded by a load of wizards. Harry stopped again.

"That was round about the time I got sick ... What's up?" asked Liam as he stopped, too. "Oh, your favourite shop –– what's the event?" asked Liam as he spotted the hoard of wizards.

"Fastest broom in today's society, isn't it dad?" said a little boy younger than both Harry and Liam.

"Prototype isn't it –– just came out I heard," said a wizard to his friend next to him. Harry started for the crowd, Liam followed. They pushed through the crowd and saw a broomstick on display, lying on a podium.

 _ **THE FIREBOLT**_

 _This state-of-the-art racing broom sports a stream-lined, superfine handle of ash, treated with a diamond-hard polish and hand-numbered with its own registration number. Each individually selected birch twig in the broomtail has been honed to aerodynamic perfection, giving the Firebolt unsurpassable balance and pinpoint precision. The Firebolt has an acceleration of 150 miles an hour in ten seconds and incorporates an unbreakable Braking Charm. Price on request._

Harry didn't want to look at the price, although it did look like quite the expensive broomstick. His Nimbus Two-Thousand was good enough, anyway; he's never lost a match with it. So he was totally convinced that he was alright with it. He felt Liam's hand clap onto his shoulder and turned to him.

"Should we rather shop for our school requirements now, I mean your mum and dad are coming back in a couple of days and we'd rather have everything before then," said Harry. He wanted an excuse to get away from the Firebolt.

"Yeah, but that's like in three days or so," said Liam. "Do we really?"

"Why not?" asked Harry. "I mean, our robes are about three inches off. We've got a long list of textbooks this year –"

"They're, like, four," said Liam.

"That's a lot!"

"Last year we had over twenty!"

"Well that's because you and Ron stuck the world back together," said Harry.

"True," said Liam. "Well all right, if you really want to," he continued, turning away from the crowd. "Flourish and Blotts and Madam Malkin's is right across from Florean Forstecue's, so we're going to get ice-cream afterwards. I've been craving for one for over a week."

"You had one three days ago!" said Harry.

"That was three days ago, and with Florean Forstecue there's no arguing," said Liam as they scurried up the twisting alleyway towards Flourish and Blotts. "You do have the book list, do you?"

"It's somewhere here," said Harry. He searched his pockets all over and eventually found the book list. "Right here." He held up the awfully folded book list.

"Good. 'Cause if you didn't I'd thump you for making me postpone my ice-cream visit," said Liam, and they walked into Flourish and Blotts. Immediately their eyes locked on a large iron cage placed right in front of the window. It was holding dozens and dozens of copies of _The Monster Book of Monsters._ Liam and Harry both frowned and Liam peered back outside and back at the cage.

"How'd we miss that?" asked Liam, pointing at the large iron cage.

"Hogwarts?" boomed a voice. Harry and Liam turned to look at a harried man. "New books?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "Can we get ––"

"You don't need _The Monster Book of Monsters,_ do you?" asked the manager.

"No, we were given it by an old friend for our birthdays," said Liam. "All we need is ––"

"Oh thank _Merlin!"_ cried the manager. "Do you know what it feels like to be bitten ... by a _book?_ Oh, and I thought it was bad when I ordered two hundred copies of the _Invisible Book of Invisibility._ Oh! _STOP IT!"_ the manager brushed past Harry and Liam brandishing a stick. He started poking at the air inside the cage, then he racked the stick against the iron bars. "You're tearing each other apart!" Once he was done he turned back to Harry and Liam. "Well, what do you need?"

"Um – well," said Harry, unfolding the book list, _"Unfogging the Future_ by Cassandra Vablatsky."

"Ah! Third years, are you? Starting Divination? I thought you were a little younger, you are a bit peaky ... Well not you, you're quite tall," said the manager pointing at Liam.

"Oi! I'm only about three inches taller than he is!" said Liam.

The manager brushed past them again and led them to a small table stacked with multiple other books.

"Ah! There it is!" said the manager. He took two copies of a thick, black-bound book. _"Unfogging the Future._ Very good guide to all your basic fortune-telling methods — palmistry, crystal balls, bird entrails —"

The manager went on but Harry wasn't listening. He was looking at a book displayed on a smaller table entitled _Death Omens: What To Do When You Know the Worst Is Coming._

"I wouldn't suggest that as the reading type," said the manager. Harry looked back at him. "You'll start to see death omens everywhere. Terrible things!"

Harry, however, turned back to look at the cover of the book. It showed a large black dog with gleaming eyes. It looked quite familiar, but Harry couldn't figure out why ...

"Oi! Earth to Harry!" said Liam, snapping his fingers in the air. "Didn't you hear him? Not reading material. Now, we need ... _Intermediate Transfiguration_ and _The Standard Book of Spells Grade 3_ by Miranda Goshawk."

"Is that it?" asked the manager.

"Erm ... Oh! _A Simple Quick-Move Defensive Skill_ and _Having More Than Two Pairs_ _of Eyes_ by C.S Eckhart," said Liam, rechecking the list.

"Ah! Colin Sator Eckhart ... Great novelist, too, I must say. I've enjoyed every one of his books, whether fictional or not. Some even say he bases his novels around things he's researched. Incredible man, he is, still lives today. I think he's about fifty-five years old. He was born in 1938 ... I'm a real big fan, you see ... Well, here we are. Two copies of Miranda Goshawk, C.S Eckhart and your transfiguration book. Courtesy of Barrett Grimmy."

A couple of minutes later Harry and Liam made their way out of Flourish and Blotts and went to buy new robes. After that, they thought the amount of bags they had was too much to handle to have stopped by the ice-cream parlour, so they went off to the Leaky Cauldron, back to their room. When they got to their room, Liam and Harry dumped their bags besides their beds.

"Right, I need to use the loo if you don't mind," said Liam, and he was off.

Harry nodded.

Harry would only go to Diagon Alley to take a moment just to look at the gleaming broomstick on display. It was a good broomstick, Liam thought, but none of the past few days that have gone by has there never been a stop in the street just to look at the Firebolt. Liam looked at Harry when they stopped by the display again. Harry was smiling and Liam knew that he was probably picturing himself zipping through the air on it.

"You really do want it, don't you?" asked Liam weakly.

Harry turned to his cousin and nodded and said, "To be honest, yes."

Liam looked back at the display and Harry followed after. "Don't you worry. One day, just you wait," Liam said, making Harry smile although he knew quite well that not even Liam could afford it. He didn't know the precise price but he knew it must have been quite a lot of gold.

Harry heard Liam take a long, deep breath. "Let's get some ice-cream, Harry," said Liam. He whipped around, Harry followed after staring at the Firebolt one last time. "How d'you reckon a double-scoop of strawberry creamy marshmallow surprise sounds like?"

"Rather sweet, I guess," said Harry. "No doubt, you'll get a sugar rush. Forstecue said that flavour was really high on sugar."

"Well, it is limited edition," said Liam. "Besides, I'd rather take the chance."

"To get a sugar rush, I don't think that's the greatest idea," said a voice. Before they could enter the ice-cream parlour, however, they turned to face the voice. They recognised it immediately, although there were two people who were both capable of speaking in a manner as such. In a manner as bossy and girly as such.

Tessa Williams and Hermione Granger, laden with bags full of books, smiled as Harry and Liam looked at them. Harry and Liam although looked at the bags in shock.

"Bloody hell," said Liam. "What are you two trying to prove? The most effective ways to hold cinder blocks?"

"No!" snapped Hermione. "These are our books for this year."

"Erm –– I'm no expert but I'm pretty sure we only have about _four_ books!" said Liam. "I explained this to Harry already!"

" _We're_ taking more courses than you are," said Hermione. "Anyway! I'd really like to give a nice, warm greeting but I have to know ... Did you really blow your aunt up, Harry?" she asked in a serious tone.

"Drop it! It wasn't intentional!" snapped Liam. "Although damn funny ..." and he quickly cut himself off because he knew that it wasn't a very good idea to have Hermione stare at him the way she did. "Bygones be bygones, 'member?"

"It's not funny, Liam," said Tessa, giving Liam a look that was something like Hermione's. "Don't you understand? Harry could've gotten expelled from Hogwarts!"

"Forget expelled! I thought I was going to be arrested!" said Harry. "I don't suppose Ron's dad knows why Fudge let me off so easily."

"Can't've been that bad," said Liam. "I mean, if it was, then they would have sent Cornel, not Fudge."

"And what does Cornel have to do with this?" asked Hermione.

"Well, he's the bloody Prime Minister of Magic ... I'd be tripping knowing that I'll be meeting with the _Prime Minister,_ wouldn't you? I mean, Fudge seems a bit scary at first but Cornel, as tubby as he is, means business. Other wise he wouldn't have been elected Prime Minister."

"He's got a point," said Harry. Out of all the new people Harry had met last year, Prime Minister Eric Cornel had stolen the most of his mind. He could just remember the large and round person waddling across the Great Hall towards Severus Snape and Wilber Wolverhampton. His robes had barely fit him. The collar of his shirt just made it around his neck.

"Where is Ron anyway? You didn't come with him, did you?" asked Liam.

"He's with his dad at Ollivander's getting a new wand," said Tessa. "Remember, he broke his other ..."

"Yeah," said Liam. "Lockhart made himself mental with it ––"

"Be _nice!"_ snapped Hermione.

"We aren't going back to that, now, are we?" asked Liam.

" _Anyway!_ He should be around by now," said Tessa. "It doesn't take that long to get a wand. Especially if it's a second one."

"What about Callum?" asked Harry. "You haven't by any chance seen him around, have you?"

"The Thompsons arrived long ago. They've been a little busy, though, with Callum's dad working at the Ministry. Can't imagine how busy it must be there with Sirius Black on the loose. I mean, they had to send out a couple of Aurors when they thought Venus Sting was a criminal," said Tessa.

"What _are_ Aurors?" asked Liam. He remembered the word being said quite a lot last year, but finding Venus was his number one priority. He didn't care if they were deadly bloodhounds ready to eat him up when they found him. Maybe that's what Dumbledore and Glumberry meant when they said 'a fate worse than death', being eaten alive.

"They're basically the wizarding equivalent to police officers," said Hermione. "They mostly go after people dealing in the Dark Arts, though. I'm surprised they haven't taken down Borgin and Burkes, yet."

"Sorry?" asked Liam.

"Borgin and Burkes? Harry mistakenly landed up there last year when we went shopping. It's in Knockturn Alley," and she pointed at the turn off. "It's down that turn next to that shop over there. Charlie Trinket's ...?"

"Brilliant shop, that is!" said Liam. "Supplied with a whole load of odd trinkets. I got a bouncing yo-yo that can literally lead you to the place you want to go. Charlie had a very cool picture of one of the previous Wizard Warrior World Cup Trophy stuck on the wall behind him. I think it may have been when South Africa hosted it in 1982. They've got a rich supply of minerals."

"The Wizard Warrior what?" asked Hermione.

"You seriously don't know of the Wizard Warrior World Cup?"

"That's shocking news!" said a voice. Ron came up from behind them with an expression somewhere between appalled and amused. "Who doesn't know of the Wizard Warrior World Cup?"

"The two girls you would suspect knew _everything,"_ said Liam. "It's a deadly game but fun to watch. Twelve international teams advance to four stages of deadly creatures and twisting obstacles. The best player today played in the one hosted in Brazil in 1990. He's round about our age. He volunteered for his father who was on the verge of dying."

"How do you know all this?" asked Tessa. "Your parents would rather you were away from the wizarding world?"

"Dad's a big fan," said Liam. "When he's not locked up in his office upstairs he'd fill me in on everything that happened from the time he was born. Said his dad wouldn't miss a game and would take him and his brother with. Which doesn't really makes sense because Dad's a muggle-born, which means that his dad was a muggle."

"He could have been introduced to it," said Tessa. "Might've had a friend in the wizarding world."

"Probably a Potter. If dad was such good friends with Uncle James, it must've been something like that. And mom later married him ..."

"Anyway ... I got a new wand, look," said Ron, and he took out a long, thin box out of his bag. He opened the box and it displayed a wand. "Fourteen inches, contains one unicorn tail-hair. We've got all our books, too. That _Monster Book_ nearly brought the assistant to tears."

"At least you decided to be normal," said Liam. He pointed at Hermione and Tessa's bags. "These two have decided they ought to compete in the weightlifting challenge."

"We're not going to compete in any such thing! It's too barbaric to the human body," said Hermione. Liam gave her a dull look. "Have you seen the things they've had to carry to prove that they're the strongest?"

"Whatever ... what lessons are you two taking?"

"Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, Study of Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies ––"

"Muggle Studies?" asked Harry. "Hermione, you're a muggle, you don't need that lesson."

"It'll be fascinating to study them in a wizard's perspective," said Hermione. "Tessa's only taking Muggle Studies and Study of Ancient Runes as extra. Her parents didn't want her to have an overload."

"It's fascinating how you would actually do that," said Liam. "Study muggles from a wizard's perspective, I mean."

"Well, we were about to get ice-cream, so if you guys want to join, feel free," said Harry. As they turned Harry felt a cold rush chill down his front: somebody had walked into him with ice-cream in their hand. Liam and Ron were refraining themselves from laughing, but Hermione and Tessa were bombarding Harry with "are you okay"s as though he'd just been knocked sideways by something.

"I'm fine! I'm _fine!"_ and he stumbled back smelling the rich smell of strawberries and marshmallows. He looked up at a blonde girl, face flushing red. Her ice-cream cone was missing the scoop of ice-cream. A little girl stood beside her, trying not to laugh as well. They looked similar.

"I am _so_ sorry, I didn't mean to do that!" said the blonde girl.

"Don't worry. It's fine," said Harry. "I walked into you."

"You sure did, mate," giggled Ron. He and Liam were red with silent laughter.

Harry tried wiping off the ice-cream from his front. The smell of strawberry lightened, and Harry's hands became sticky.

"My day's not going too well either, if it makes you feel any better," said the girl. "We have a _Monster Book_ needed in our school requirement ... it nearly bit my hand off. It _did_ break it though. Though my dad mended it. Hang on a bit –– you're Harry Potter, aren't you? And you," she pointed at Liam, "you must be Liam Clark! You're the Boys Who Lived!"

Now the little girl that stood next to her, who had brown hair, stood with bulging eyes, and her mouth made a perfect O. "You got Harry Potter with ice-cream, Vi!" said the little girl. "You got the _Boy Who Lived_ with ice-cream!"

"Really, it's nothing. But we sure liked the entertainment," snickered Liam, walking in front of Harry. "Isn't that right, Harry?" and as he turned to face his cousin, ice-cream smeared from his right cheek to the bridge of his nose. Ron broke into fits of laughter.

"Now _that's_ funny," said Harry, snickering as well.

"Boys!" sighed Hermione and Tessa, rolling their eyes. "Sorry, but they're idiots," she was talking to the two girls. "It was nice meeting you two, but we've gotta go." And the two of them led the way. Ron, Harry and Liam followed. "Right, boys, we're going to the Magical Menagerie."

"What? Why?" asked Harry.

"My birthday's coming up and my parents gave me a bit of gold to buy something," said Hermione. "There's ten galleons in my pouch."

"How 'bout a nice new _book,"_ said Ron.

"No, I was hoping for an owl," said Hermione. "Harry's got Hedwig, Liam's got Patches and you've got Errol."

"Errol's the family owl! He's not mine! All I've got is Scabbers!" said Ron. "And whilst we're at it, I've got to get Scabbers checked. Egypt may not have been too friendly ... think he might be sick."

So they trotted up the twisting street of Diagon Alley towards the Magical Menagerie.

"There's nothing wrong with Crookshanks!" snapped Hermione for the tenth time, holding and stroking a furry, orange ball curled up in her arms. "He's an innocent cat, Ron, nothing harmful about that."

"Yeah, except for the fact that rats happen to be on their menus!" snapped Ron back, pointing at a lump on his chest. "And if you were blind or something, your furry little demon nearly clawed Scabbers to death back there."

"He didn't mean to do it! He was probably lonely. Poor Crookshanks ... nobody wanted him, you know!" Hermione said.

"Look, I don't care whether that thing grew up in a gutter somewhere, can the two of you stop bickering!" yelled Liam over them, Harry and Tessa showing a very relieved look on their faces. "You sound like bloody broken records ... "He nearly ate Scabbers!" ..." he imitated with a deeper voice, "... "Oh he didn't mean to!" ..." again imitating, only this time higher.

"I don't sound like that!" muttered Hermione, giving Liam a swift hit in the shoulder.

"You know I'd go so much as hold a spider if I saw the good side of you!" said Liam, rubbing his shoulder.

"That would be morally entertaining," said Hermione, nose pointed up as she walked past.

"She didn't mean that," said Harry.

"I know," grumbled Liam, rubbing his arm. A certain kind of gleam sparkled in his eyes, and Harry was sure they were riddled in mixed emotions. Probably because Hermione hugged even him upon her awakening after being petrified, despite her profound dislike for his wellbeing. "Let's get back to the Leaky Cauldron. Personally, I've had enough of this Scabbers and Crookshanks rubbish."

"Good idea," said Harry, who, with Tessa, was nodding.

"I'm in room twenty-six with mum and dad. It's a family one," said Tessa, as they passed the apothecary. "Hermione's with me, now. Her parents dropped her off today. My parents don't know her, yet, but they were happy that she was somewhat like me so they didn't mind. Ron and his family are a couple of rooms down from us."

"We're in room eleven. We were one of the early ones," said Liam. "Mum and Dad sorted everything out before they went off to Rome ... then Harry blew up his aunt and some purple bus dropped him off safely. Which reminds me, I ought to take my medicine before lunch."

"Medicine?" asked Hermione. Liam thought he might have heard a little bit of sympathy in her voice, something that almost made him smile. "What for?"

"Is that worry in your voice?" asked Liam, smiling at her.

Hermione rolled her eyes and added some pace in her strutting towards the Leaky Cauldron. Liam found Harry, Tessa and Ron snickering –– something he didn't hesitate to do either –– however Tessa stopped abruptly once his gazed landed on her. She walked toward him and gave him a hit to his stomach.

"That isn't nice!" she spat, and then she stormed off after Hermione.

" _Whatever ..."_ said Liam in a voice that was meant to mock both of them. The boys continued to snicker, and they followed suit into the Leaky Cauldron.

Once Ron, Harry and Liam entered the doors to the Leaky Cauldron, they saw Hermione and Tessa seat themselves at a table where Mr Weasley was lost in a newspaper article in the _Daily Prophet._

"Mr Weasley!" said Liam and Harry in unison, and in equal excitement.

Whilst Ron went to sit down, Liam and Harry ran off to Mr Weasley, who stood at their appearances.

"Harry! Liam!" The two boys approached him. "It's been so long since I've seen you, boys! How are you?"

"Fine. How are you," said both boys.

"I've seen better days," said Mr Weasley. "But otherwise, I'm fine."

"They still haven't caught him, have they?" asked Harry.

"Not yet," said Mr Weasley, turning to the page of the delusional man behind bars. "But ... the Ministry has never worked so hard on anything more in their lives. Apart from capturing Venus Sting, of course. By the way, remind me to tell your parents congratulations for managing to free him, Liam. Not many have the power to do that, especially for a former fugitive. He's doing something to prove himself, isn't he."

"I haven't heard of or seen Venus in a while, Mr Weasley. The last time we spoke was through owl, and that was during his trial," said Liam. "Patches nearly got caught. My parents had to pull some strings to tell the Ministry that I hadn't been communicating with Venus. I got grounded after that."

"That's a shame," said Mr Weasley.

"Tell me about it." Something beeped and Liam looked at the watch around his wrist. "Mind me, I have to go take my medicine, now."

Liam ran off.

"Medicine?" asked Mr Weasley.

"He's sick," replied Harry.

"Sick?"

"Not really," said Harry. "Well, it doesn't seem like it, but he's gone through bottles of potions precisely on the right time everyday."

"What happened?"

"He got sick after a visit from his dad's muggle friend," said Harry. "He brought a chest from a fishing trip and offered it to Uncle Tom. As a gift from saving his son from cancer –"

"Cancer?" asked Mr Weasley. "What, may I ask, is that?"

Harry stared blankly at Mr Weasley before realising that the Wizard World was not familiar with terminology or sicknesses from the Muggle World.

"It's – err –" He didn't imagine himself explaining what cancer was to a man much older than him in his life. If anything, Mr Weasley should have been telling him all about the sickness himself. "It's a disease. A muggle disease ... Like Dragon Pox ... except worse ... I think."

"Interesting," said Mr Weasley.

"So ... how close is the Ministry to finding Black?" asked Harry.

"Not a lot of progress has been made, but we're getting somewhere," said Mr Weasley. "A lot of Aurors have been set to the job. Shacklebolt's got a good team, what with the Eckharts being a part of it. On the other hand, we have the Azkaban guards on the job, as well."

Mrs Weasley had entered the bar, the next moment. She was bag-laden, and was followed by the twins, Fred and George, and Ginny. Ginny seemed happier than last they saw her, despite what she had experienced last year. Despite being controlled by Lord Voldemort. Percy Weasley was the last to arrive, strutting through the doors with his chest out, showing off the pin that shun in the light.

"Harry!" Mrs Weasley's voice boomed. "Liam!" She made her way to the table and lay her bags down, giving Harry a hearty hug afterwards. Then she tore away and made her way to Liam, who had just cringed from drinking the spiky Tago potion.

"Hello, Mrs Weasley," his voice strained. "Lovely to see you again."

"Why on earth are you taking this amount of potions?" asked Mrs Weasley, picking up bottles from the tray that lay in front of Liam. When a blue bottle made its way into her hands, she screwed up her face. "Ooh ... the Byrrus Potion ... not very pleasant, is it, dear."

"That plus the Tago Potion adds a whole unpleasant feeling, Mrs Weasley," said Liam. "Lucky enough, my mom concluded all this with the blissful taste of the Volten mixture." And at that moment, Liam downed the last potion he had to take, and a mask of true pleasure eclipsed his face.

"Ah, among all medicines, the Volten mixture is with the best tasting kind," said Mrs Weasley. "Well, your parents know what they're doing. Whatever's wrong with you, they can fix. They're Healers, are they not."

"Doctors," said Liam, but Mrs Weasley didn't understand that. She frowned, but smiled all the same.

Harry smiled, but then looked ahead of him. Behind Fred and George stood Ginny, who still seemed shy to approach Harry. In fact, it seemed as though she was more shy, this time. Perhaps it was because he saved her life the year before. He barely heard her when she greeted him. He sparked a smile at her before she scurried away. Percy pushed passed the twins, his nose pointed in the air. His hand outstretched to Harry, who tried to refrain himself from laughing.

"Greetings, Harry," said Percy.

"Hi, Percy," said Harry.

Before Percy could say anymore, he was pushed aside, and the twins stepped up in front of Harry, holding their hands out across each others. Harry took both with both of his hands, and shook them.

"Nice to see you again, Harry," said Fred.

"And we have an official invitation for you to join in on any pranks we do this year, given that you blew up your aunt," said George.

"Get away from him!" said Mrs Weasley. "Harry will partake in no pranking involving the two of you."

"That doesn't mean he can't do it with anyone else," said Liam. Mrs Weasley looked at him. "I'm joking ... just joking."

"Ah, Mr Potter," said a voice. Harry was facing a man and a woman, both of whom had a smile on. Tessa stood beside him. Harry couldn't remember when she crept there. "A pleasure to finally meet the Boy Who Lived ... the other one, anyway."

"Harry," piped up Tessa. "These are my parents."

It was a wonder where Tessa got her red hair from, and her green eyes. The only resemblance between her and her parents was the few distinctive shapes of her eyes and nose. Apart from that, Harry wouldn't have known they were related if he saw them together.

"Winter Williams," said Tessa's father, who shook Harry's hand. "As I have said, a pleasure." Mr Williams had short, brown hair. His side burns were dyed grey, but otherwise he looked remarkably young.

"Dominic Williams," said Tessa's mother, who took Harry's hand next. "I'm sure my husband has pretty much summed up how delighted we feel." Like her husband, Mrs Williams had a flock of curly, brown hair, and looked considerably young. Harry thought it may have been because of their eyes. Light, crystal green with flecks of gold in them.

"Come, mother, father, you _must_ meet Hermione," said Tessa, a spark lit up in her eyes. Harry smiled knowing why she wanted them to meet Hermione so desperately. And then she was dragging her parents off towards the table, where Hermione had been stroking Crookshanks.

Harry's gaze followed after them, and then his eyes went to Liam, who was now standing with a wide smile on his face. Harry didn't know what Liam was smiling at, because it certainly wasn't him.

"Parents are a nag. Liam of all people knows that," said a voice that made Harry smile. He turned to see Thomas and Angela Clark standing by the bar door, clutching at their bags. "Personally, I don't think we're a nag."

"Your uncle's being totally ridiculous," said Mrs Clark. "We're not a nag."

"Uncle Tom!" Harry sped towards his aunt and uncle and tackled both of them with a hug. "Aunt Ange."

"Hey there, Harry," said Mr Clark. "What happened? You were supposed to come over the holidays."

"The Dursleys thought I was lying," said Harry. "They know who you are, they just didn't believe you were still alive."

"Oh dear," said Mrs Clark, and then she hit her husband on the shoulder. "I told you we should have confirmed with them first!"

"Relax! I'm sure he'll come over this time," said Mr Clark, his hand ruffling Harry's hair. "Besides, if they don't allow him to, then I'll _force_ them to. I heard you blew up your aunt. Must've been fun, right?"

"Thomas!"

"I would've done it," said Mr Clark. "Besides, if you knew Marge Dursley like I did, I'm sure you would've done it, too."

"You knew the Dursleys?" asked Harry.

"Of course," said Mr Clark. "Your mother and I were friends long before Hogwarts, Harry. It's a small world. Muggles tended to be around the same area. My dad liked to tell stories and the person who appreciated them most was Lily Evans. She came to me, asked me where my father got it all. I told her the truth. He was friends with the Potters. A rich family over the hill. I barely saw the Potters before age eleven, but I knew dad was a big friend of theirs. Which came to a huge shock given my father was a poor man."

"Mom! Dad!" yelled Liam, and it wasn't long before Liam tackled his parents. "When did you come back?"

"This morning," said Mrs Clark. "Rome was spectacular. Sorry we couldn't take you with, Junior, but with a sickness like yours, we weren't sure if it was the best idea. Besides, you had to stay around for Harry, right? Speaking of such, you have been taking your medicine, have you?"

"Never missed a day," said Liam, smiling.

"Good," said Mrs Clark. She kissed him on the forehead. "You should feel better."

"Much," said Liam. "What were you doing in Rome, anyway?"

"Ah, that's a matter you shouldn't worry about, Liam," said his father, who was now pushing both him and Harry towards the table. "You two must be hungry. Why don't you get everything in order for lunch while we book into a room and settle in."

"Now, I trust you got to know Mr and Mrs Weasley, Liam?" asked Mr Clark when he and his wife came back down ten minutes later. Liam nodded. "And I trust _you_ , Harry, got familiar with Mr and Mrs Williams?" Harry nodded. Mr Clark and his wife both took a seat next to each other. "Good! Wouldn't want to be complete strangers to each other, now do we? Now, I heard there's another looney wizard that managed to break out of our highly guarded prison."

"Sirius Black," said Harry suddenly.

"Yeah," said Mr Clark. "Sirius Black. What's the matter, Harry?"

Harry didn't realise this, but saying his name fazed him. He turned solid, and didn't know why. For some reason remembering the fugitive reminded him about the day he ran away. The day he saw that black dog in the alleyway.

"Hmm ..." said Harry, facing his uncle. "I'm fine."

With all the families together, they ate lunch. Tom the landlord seemed considerably nicer to Mr and Mrs Clark. Probably because they had the most money around the table. The toothless landlord was perhaps hoping for a large tip at the end of their lunch. His haunched figure came by every now and then asking if they were all all right, or if they needed anything more.

Liam gave Ron and Harry an invitation to order as they pleased, which didn't seem to disturb his parents in the slightest. The three had ordered about three or four – they lost count – drinks along with their meal. Mr Clark even allowed Harry and Liam to take a sip of his Firewhiskey, something Mrs Clark stopped before it could happen.

"Buzz kill," Mr Clark whispered to the two boys. Harry and Liam laughed, but Mrs Clark rolled her eyes.

They ate until night. Mr Clark, Mr Williams and Mr Weasley started up a war of who would be paying for the big meal. All three kept calling Tom to accept no other cash but theirs. Eventually, Mr Clark won the fight and to Liam's relief; he'd ordered a lot thinking his parents would pay for it all.

After that Mrs Clark, Mrs Weasley and Mrs Williams all agreed that it was time they all got some rest. Mr Clark moaned on behalf of the boys. His feeble efforts didn't help, though. They all went up to their rooms, Harry and Liam taking a walk across towards the Weasleys' before they went to bed.

"I swear I didn't take your badge, Percy!" moaned Ron.

"What's all this about?" asked Harry.

"Percy thinks I took his Head Boy badge," blurted Ron.

"You did take my badge!" said Percy. "I took it off to clean it and now it's gone."

"Fine! If you're so keen that I took your badge, mind explaining where you put Scabbers's rat tonic?" asked Ron.

"I didn't touch it!" said Percy. "I barely saw it!"

"Shoot! I think I may have left it downstairs by our table," said Ron. He tried walking away, but Percy put his hand in the way.

"You're not going anywhere until you tell me where you put my badge," said Percy.

"I didn't _touch_ your stupid badge, Percy!"

"We'll get your tonic, Ron," said Liam.

"Will you?" asked Ron.

To be honest, Liam was trying to find more reasons to stay up. With the return of his parents, and the welcoming and nice lunch they all had together, he didn't seem sleepy. He was actually very energised and didn't mind another slow walk through Diagon Alley. If it hadn't been for the deserted road at night, Harry was sure Liam would've gone for that walk.

"Why not," said Liam. He and Harry made their way to the stairs.

It was easier to start up a conversation with each other, now. A relief to Harry because he barely knew his cousin, and he knew, without knowing him, making conversation would have been a very odd thing. But spending two weeks alone with him seemed to have done the trick. They began a conversation about Ayers and Quidditch, but then they stopped abruptly halfway down the stairs.

"Tommy, it's not about their relationship with you or each other," said the voice of Winter Williams. "It's about their safety. Harry's especially."

"Winter, it has only been three years. Two, with Harry," said Mr Clark. "We're just getting to know them."

Harry and Liam crept down the stairs, slowly. When they got to the bottom they saw Mr and Mrs Clark, both leaning against a table, talking to Mr and Mrs Williams and Mr and Mrs Weasley. All of them looked concerned.

"Besides," said Mr Clark, scratching the back of his head, "Liam wouldn't be able to help if he could. That sickness he has is unlike any we've seen before. Muggle or Wizard. Angela and I are not even sure the assortment of potions we gave him would be enough to sustain human strength, let alone make him better. All it's done so far is stopped it from spreading to others."

"And we know that for sure, otherwise we would have caught it, too," said Mrs Clark. "So would Harry."

"Harry's safety is worth the risk," said Mr Weasley. "Look, I know your his uncle and aunt, and you're trying to make him fit in, but unless you can ensure he'll be safe during all this, none of this ... this relationship that you're trying to have with him ... it won't happen."

"I know. It's just ... he's just starting to feel like his apart of the family. That's partially the reason we left Liam with him for two weeks," said Mr Clark. "I don't want Harry to feel left out just because he doesn't have parents. According to your plan, Arthur, ensuring his safety means that I'll have to keep a distance from him, from both of them. Both of us will ... and that's not what we want. That's actually far from what we want."

"Plus, it's a _big_ secret considering Harry's wellbeing," said Mrs Clark. "Keeping him in the dark about all of this will do nothing to justify any of this."

"He's a young boy, Angela," said Mrs Weasley. "He shouldn't need to be worrying about something like this."

"And why not? He handled the same situation last year just fine," said Mrs Clark.

"Yes, but this time it's him," said Mrs Weasley.

The room was silent for a moment, and then the chattering continued.

"I do quite agree with Angie and Thomas, though, Molly. Harry has a right to know," said Mr Weasley. "I've tried explaining all of this to Fudge, but he insists on treating him like a kid. He's a thirteen year old boy who is completely capable of handling the truth –"

"Arthur, think of the variables," said Mr Williams. "Yes, Harry's thirteen, and there's not much of a big difference between last year and this year but the prospect of the truth will probably give the boy nightmares."

"Not to mention that this may mean his death," said Mrs Williams. Harry and Liam looked at each other, shocked. "Sorry for the unsubtly, but we have to state the facts as we know them to make us realise what we're dealing with here. Telling him would be a mistake."

"No it's not," said Mr Clark. "Telling him would only prepare him. Besides, it's not so hard to tell when someone's lying to you. Especially for a Potter. If he's anything like his father, which is guaranteed, then he's going to find out about this sooner or later. If not, Liam will do it for him."

"I agree," said Mr Weasley. "Telling him will put him on guard, not frighten him. In any fact, the boy has been through much more terrifying things in the past two years. The basilisk _and_ Quirrell. In addition to that, he'd have Liam to assist him. He went through all of this with him ... the basilisk anyway. Droge was another story on its own."

"They've been through Venus Sting already," said Mr Clark.

"Yeah, but they say Sirius Black is _mad!"_ said Mr Williams. "And even if he isn't mad, he still managed to pass the Azkaban prison guards with ease. If he could do that, then he can most certainly sneak his way into Hogwarts. Getting to Harry would be the next easy step, and we know how that isn't hard to come by in school. If Black fails in doing what he's intending to do, which will happen, then Harry got away with this by dumb luck. If he so happens to succeed in his crusade, then it was because Harry was off guard – which still doesn't give us the liberty to tell him – mainly because we are also off guard."

"We don't know how Black will attack, all we know is that he's coming after Harry," said Mrs Williams, who was again so freely stating the facts as they were. This only widened the bulging eyes Harry and Liam had.

"Yes, but we also may not know Black's full intentions," said Mr Clark. "Black may be in a situation similar to Venus. He may not even be after Harry. Of course that would be hard to believe seeming that it already happened, and representing a criminal again would be harder the second time around, but if it were true ... then I don't know how we approach this, but I do know telling Harry would be the best for all of us."

"Yes but Black's deranged. He's spent twelve years dwelling on the fact that Harry lost him everything. That killing him will bring back the Dark Lords," said Mrs Williams. "Winter and Arthur both know Eric and Cornelius went to Azkaban. 'He's at Hogwarts ... He's at Hogwarts' ... that's all he could say. Fudge kept the secret in the dark, something Cornel couldn't avoid due to it being viral in the muggle world as well. They knew about the threats he left around, they just didn't know who Liam Clark was. This is something we can avoid without telling Harry, Thomas."

Another silence followed. Harry leaned against the wall to make himself comfortable, but Liam leaned against him, which eliminated any sense of comfort.

"He's going to have to stay as close to Dumbledore and Glumberry as he possibly can," said Mr Clark. "If there's anything I learnt, it's that the Dark Lords feared them among any other man. Chances are, Sirius Black wouldn't go near him. They are aware of this?"

"Of course," said Mr Williams. "Fudge had me send them an owl a while back. They allowed the Azkaban Prison guards to secure the area, despite their unpleasant aura. Personally, I think it is a precaution well thought of. Even though I hate the Dementors more than probably anyone in the Ministry, it's a caution to ensure everybody's safety. And if Tessa is to hang around Harry ... if any of them are to hang around Harry ... they'd be safe, at least."

"You know what, Harry," Liam whispered in his cousin's ear, "I think I see Ron's rat tonic over there. Why don't we get it and get out of here?"

Ron's rat tonic was lying underneath the table they had been sitting at. Liam squeezed passed Harry to reach out for it. He didn't want to reveal that they had been there, eavesdropping, so he let out only his arm. His fingers nicked the back, making it roll in their direction. It hit the stair with a dull _BUMP!_

Harry and Liam cringed.

"What was that?" asked Mr Clark, staring at the stairway.

"It's probably that pesky cat," said Mr Weasley. "Tom, that landlord that served us today, said he was going to get rid of it soon."

"Why would Dumbledore and Glumberry risk having those guards around the school?" asked Mrs Clark, who shivered.

"It's the best way to keep Hogwarts safe," said Mr Williams. "It's the best way to keep Harry safe."

"Enough of this," said Mrs Williams. "We all ought to get to bed, don't you think."

Liam reeled in the rat tonic from the bottom of the stairs and motioned for Harry to come alone, but it seemed as though he had been frozen. Liam paused for a moment, but he knew they had zero room for error, so he tugged at Harry's arm and pulled him to his feet.

" _Come on!"_

The two of them raced up the stairs and ran in the direction of Ron's room before they were caught. Harry barely registered the trip there, and Liam could see his fazed expression. He saw Liam give Ron his rat tonic, Ron was already half asleep when they got to him. Liam led the way back to their room, and Harry had gone to his bed, his mind wrapped around Sirius Black.

What was the problem? Just last year he was helping his cousin evade a similar event. Now that it was aimed at him, it just felt different. Could he be scared or was he just annoyed at the fact that some people thought that he was incapable of handling this situation.

"I won't be kill, right, Liam?" asked Harry, loudly.

"Keep it down, Harry," muttered his cousin, "I'm trying to sleep."

He only noticed then that he'd been lying there for long. So long that Liam had fallen asleep. But he knew what his cousin would have said if he was awake, and he said it to himself as confirmation.

"I won't be killed."


	4. The Dementor

CHAPTER THREE

The Dementor

Harry woke up to an uncanny brightness. Tom had opened up the curtains to let in some light. Liam was still fast asleep. The mound that was his cousin humbly snored away despite the bright room.

"Better hurry up, Mr Potter. An hour goes by quickly," said Tom before leaving. He shot Harry his toothless grin, and then he disappeared into the hallway.

Harry rubbed his eyes opened, and then set his eyes on Liam again. He still didn't stir. He planned to do something, but Ron walked in.

"Percy's a real pain!" said Ron. "I suspect it's because he just realised that there's another Head Boy."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry. He was sure the last time there had only been one Head Boy and one Head Girl.

"Double in population, double in everything," said Ron. "After Liam and I stuck the world back together, Hogwarts went through this massive increase in population. There'd been too many students so Dumbledore and Glumberry agreed on two Head Boys and two Head Girls, and four prefects for each house instead of two."

"But that shouldn't matter, should it?" asked Harry.

"Eh, just increases my chances of becoming Head Boy," said Ron. He leaned on Harry's bed, only then realising the moving mound on the bed across. "Is he still sleeping?"

"Yup," said Harry. He picked up a pillow and threw it at Liam, waking him up.

"What the bloody hell!" he snapped.

"Wakey wakey, sleepyhead," said Harry, slipping out of bed himself. "We've got an hour until the train leaves."

Liam did nothing but grunt. For a moment, Harry thought he'd gone back to sleep, but he threw the pillow, that was rudely thrown at him, across the room and started rubbing his eyes open.

"How is it that you're the first to sleep but the last to wake up?" asked Harry.

Liam moved around in his bed.

"I think we all know the answer to that Harry," said Liam, yawning. "I cherish my sleep."

Then he got out of bed and paused. Sleep still keeping him drowsy. After a while he went off to open his trunk to get a fresh set of clothes out along with his Hogwarts robes. Harry had done the same, and Ron sat around on the unmade beds, waiting and ranting on about how much of a pain Percy had been lately.

"I need to tell you something," said Harry suddenly. This was prevented, though, because Fred and George had come to offer Ron a place in their pranking schemes as well, for successfully managing to irk Percy for the second time.

They went down for breakfast with forty minutes to spear. Mr Weasley was parked on a chair, again reading the _Daily Prophet._ Mr Williams was poking away at the nearby fireplace – it oddly almost appeared as though he was talking into to. Mrs Weasley, Mrs Clark and Mrs Williams were all telling Tessa, Ginny and Hermione their tales of the enchanted love potion. Liam may have even overheard his mother say that she may have used one once on his father, a statement that made him nothing but queasy. It seemed to have the girls all in giggles, though. Another thing that made him queasy.

Mr Clark had just made his last trip downstairs with his own travelling bag in hand. He placed it near a heap where all the other trunks were. Hedwig and Patches were on top of the pile, hooting away at each other.

"Were you about to say something, Harry?" asked Ron.

"Later," said Harry as they came closer to the rest.

"Oh boys," said Mr Weasley, "I've arranged for a couple Ministry cars to come by in a while, so eat up and get ready. They should be here in a couple of minutes." Then he went back to reading the newspaper.

Percy came in, placing Hermes, his pet owl, right next to Hedwig and Patches. A wickerwood basket was nearby, almost bouncing around as though it had a brain of its own. Hermione approached it and said, "It's okay, Crookshanks, I'll let you out when we're on the train."

And then she went back to join the girls, who were giggling all over again. First at Mr Clark – probably because of what Mrs Clark had said – who was making sure all the trunks were sorted out and in order, then at Liam – probably because they spotted his queasy expression – then to the other two fathers, one at the fire and one behind his copy of the _Daily Prophet._

They all scarfed down breakfast and had twenty minutes waiting for the Ministry cars to stop by. When they had, they all had their trunks stuffed in the boot and seated themselves comfortably for their trip to King's Cross Station. There was ten minutes left when they arrived. The drivers found them trolleys, offloaded all the trunks and saluted to Mr Weasley before leaving.

"Shall we do this in pairs?" asked Mr Weasley.

"That's a good idea, seeming that there so many of us," said Mr Clark.

"I'm going with Dad!" yelled Liam, and he pushed his trolley to his father. Mr Clark took his trolley and looked at his son.

"Wanna play pilot?" asked Mr Clark, but he said it in a way Harry was sure was only known to the two of them.

"Pilot?" he asked his aunt.

"Before the Leaky Cauldron, your uncle took Liam out a lot in his car ... it's a flying car so imagine Liam's face when your uncle said 'hey Junior, want to go for a little spin in that old hooter in the garage' ... he even allowed him to drive it, or fly it ..." said Mrs Clark. A certain looked glazed over her face. Harry found it hard to read. "They called it 'Playing Pilot' ... stupid actually ... it's moments like these when I wish I could find a way to make him less childish ... but that's who he is, and the man I chose to marry, so I guess it was my mistake, too."

Harry laughed. By the tone of her voice he knew she was only joking.

"I can always do it for you if you want," his aunt said.

"On a trolley?" Harry heard Liam ask.

"It's simple, really," said Mr Clark. "Just ... hang on."

Liam climbed onto the trolley, clutching tightly as his father broke into a run towards the wall between platforms nine and ten. It looked dangerous, especially since they were running into a wall. It made Harry consider whether he wanted to do it or not. He quickly made his decision.

"I'm all right," said Harry, scrunching up his face.

"Right, Harry, will you be going with your aunt or me?" asked Mr Weasley.

"My aunt, thanks, Mr Weasley," said Harry, sticking close to his aunt who forced the trolley out of his hands.

She shot him a smile, and said, "Last chance ... you sure you don't want to play pilot?"

"I'm okay," said Harry.

"Okay ..."

The Clarks had a knack for using different tones when they spoke, and those that were all funny or enlightening in the situation. Harry thought it might have been to make them seem more friendly, or funnier. It was something that made him like them better. Something that almost made him wish he'd never met the Dursleys.

His aunt began to push the trolley towards the barrier. Harry ran along with her, gripping onto the trolley to make sure they didn't part. They fell sideways onto platform nine and three-quarters and looked up to see the scarlet steam train that would be their way to Hogwarts.

Harry looked around and spotted Mr Clark and Liam. Mr Clark was haunching so that he was levelled with his son. They were talking, a stern face on both of them. Then they both smile and Liam seemed to run his finger along the scar on his forehead. His father mirrored him, then Mr Clark stood and tousled his son's hair.

Percy and Ginny appeared next, Ron and Mr Weasley following suit.

"Penelope!" screamed Percy, suddenly smoothing his hair and going pink. Ginny and Harry looked at each other, both smiling, trying to refrain themselves from laughing at the boy that now took large strides towards a girl with long, curly hair. His chest was out to present the Head Boy badge.

"Is he trying to impress her or scare her away?" asked Mr Clark as he and Liam rejoined the rest. "Well, they've been dating for a while, from what I heard, so I think she's gotten used to it. That, or she's just completely oblivious to it."

The rest of the Weasleys, Hermione and the Williams joined them. Mr and Mrs Clark refused to let Harry and Liam touch their trunks until they were in the train. They all packed an empty carriage, and then put Hedwig, Patches and Crookshanks in the luggage rack. Afterwards, they went back out to say goodbye.

Mrs Weasley kissed all the Weasleys, Hermione, Tessa, Liam and then Harry. Harry and Liam went onto Mr and Mrs Clark – after bidding Mr and Mrs Williams a goodbye – both of whom hugged them. Mrs Clark did not hesitate to kiss either of them either, and Mr Clark ruffled their hair.

"So long. Enjoy the daunting roads of school work and exams and remember to cause all the trouble you can," said Mr Clark in a proud voice.

"Oh, shut it!" said Mrs Clark, even though Harry and Liam were smiling. "Don't listen to him. He's only listing the number of things that can get you expelled."

"I never got expelled and I was the worst troublemaker there was," said Mr Clark. "Me and your dad, Harry. The two of us got up to the most trouble, of course with the help of Venus and Si– Wigan."

"Wigan was a troublemaker?" asked Harry.

"Well, not all the time, but he was included in a lot of it," said Mr Clark.

Harry and Liam were about to be off, but Mr Clark caught Harry's arm. Liam, oblivious about this, went on to following the rest into the steam train.

"One quick word, Harry?" asked Mr Clark.

"This is about Sirius Black, isn't it?" asked Harry.

"Why, yes ... how'd you know?" asked Mr Clark. "What, can you speak to snakes _and_ read people's minds?" He joked, but his expression changed almost immediately.

"No ... I – err – overheard you guys speaking yesterday," said Harry. "Sorry."

"It's all right, at least you know, it's better that way, I think," said Mr Clark. "Look, a lot of people have told me not to tell you. That you're too young ... even Minister Fudge ... but _I'm_ your uncle, not the Ministry and not the _Daily Prophet_. In decision-making, Your aunt and I come next after your parents. We know what's best for you and telling you is honestly the next best thing."

"You're not scared, are you?" asked Mrs Clark, concerned.

"Not at all," said Harry. Mr and Mrs Clark weren't very convinced. "Really, I'm not. Sirius Black can't be any worse than Voldemort or Valindor."

"Okay," said Mr Clark. Harry was surprised at the lack of reaction his aunt and uncle had when saying the names of the Dark Lords. In fact, they didn't react to it at all. They both cracked a narrow smile, Mr Clark looking directly in his green eyes. "But we need to know one more thing. We need to know if you won't got _looking_ for Black – I know it's an absurd idea ... but I know you and I knew your father. He and I, despite us being from entirely different families, were so alike in many ways. Eventually curiosity catches up to us, making us want to find out what's causing all the commotion and why ... apart from us, that is. We need to know that you're not going to go after Black, that you'll stay safe and away from those Azkaban guards. The farther away you are from them the farther you are from Black."

A particular feeling crept up Harry. He saw Mr Clark's lip twitch, something he found strange. Something told him that his uncle was putting an awful amount of effort into saying those words.

"How would I know a guard when I see one?" asked Harry.

"Oh, you'll know," said Mr Clark. "Now, Liam and I do this little thing when we make promises. It's a way we know we keep the promises we make. It's stupid, but we call it the Lightning Promise. Lightning Promise because we seal it by drawing a lightning scar on our foreheads with our fingers. I'm letting you in on this, okay, and I need you to make me a lightning promise.

"Promise me, Harry, _solemnly swear_ it, that no matter what you do, you won't go looking for Black?" Mr Clark waited for Harry to respond.

Harry realised that this is what Mr Clark and Liam had been doing earlier before they rejoined them when Percy went off to Penelope. He knew now that Liam had promised his father to do something, something he wanted to know about, but along with the feeling that his cousin was keeping something from him came, oddly enough, a warm feeling. A warm feeling that boiled a smile onto his face. He smiled because he was allowed to do something that was secret between father and son. Between Liam and Mr Clark.

"I promise, I won't go after Black," said Harry, and then he ran his index finger along his scar. Mr Clark smiled, impressed that he didn't have to show Harry how to do it. Then he drew a lightning scar on his forehead, himself. Mr Clark then brought Harry into a hug and tousled Harry's hair again, and Mrs Clark hugged him, too, kissing his forehead once more.

"Our brave little boy," said Mrs Clark. "Now, off you go, or you'll be left behind."

Harry scurried off into the steam train and rejoined his friends and cousin, but they were looking for an empty compartment. Ginny had been lucky enough to find one with her friends.

"Took you long enough," Liam said to Harry. "What happened, your legs froze or something?"

"No. Nothing," said Harry. He smiled out the window. Mr and Mrs Clark, along with Mr and Mrs Weasley and Mr and Mrs Williams, were waving, arm in arm. "What's going on here? We haven't found a compartment?"

"All of them are full except for the one in the back," answered Tessa.

"Except there's some old man sleeping in it," said Liam.

"Do you even know _how_ to be nice?" asked Hermione, glaring at Liam.

"Yes, actually, it's what wakes me up everyday," said Liam.

"Actually, what wakes you up is me throwing a pillow in your face," commented Harry.

"That too," said Liam. The main purpose Harry intervened was to stop the argument that would follow between Hermione and Liam. But it didn't seem to work for Liam's focus went back to Hermione. "Besides, I'm not fully convinced that you know how to be nice, either."

"All right! All right! The only thing worse than me and Hermione bickering is you two having a go at each other," said Ron. "Let's get to that empty compartment. Scabbers is getting irritable and I have a pretty good idea why." Ron looked at Hermione, and then at the wickerwood basket that was fixed to the top of her trunk. Then he led the way to the end where the empty compartment had been.

"Where'd they pick him up from?" asked Liam. Harry could sense that he wasn't trying to be entirely rude, but Hermione thought otherwise. She rolled her eyes at him and pushed passed him to get a seat in the compartment.

"Honestly, does 'nice' even have a description in your mind?" she said.

Liam's jaw clenched, and Harry could see that he was trying to make an effort not to shout. "How did _she_ even become your friend?"

"We saved her," said Harry, trying to ease the tension. "From a troll."

Liam heaved a sigh and then looked at the man. He wanted to say something but stopped halfway through opening his mouth. He feared Hermione would come up with more reasons to hate him. Which added to his reasons, as well. Instead, he sat down opposite the sleeping man, but mainly to get away from Hermione.

Harry and Ron joined him. Hermione and Tessa sat next to the man as though he wasn't even there.

The stranger wore darned and shabby robes that nearly covered his entire face. Something told them that was his initial intention, but with the occasional bumps of the train and the man's heaving breathing, it was a very short-lived intention. He looked quite young, however there had been grey streaks in his brown hair.

"His name's Professor R.J Lupin, if you're wondering," piped up Hermione.

"How'd you know that?" asked Ron.

"She's being Ms Know-It-All as usual," muttered Liam. He avoided the inevitable glare from Hermione by looking out the window.

"He has a case, genius!" said Hermione, her gaze not leaving Liam even if he was looking out the window. "And, like everything else, his case happens to have his name on it. Everybody would have checked that unlike –"

"He'll be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts," spat Tessa, hastily.

"How would you know that?" asked Ron.

"It's obvious, Ron. It's the only job up for grabs after Lockhart and Wigan left," said Tessa.

"I honestly don't see why hunting down the Xelarus Slug is any reason to leave the role," said Ron.

"Sorry?" asked Harry.

"The Xelarus Slug? It's why Wigan left," said Ron. "He heard news of a rare slug species somewhere near the boarders of TAL. He said it fit every description of a Xelarus Slug, an mythical creature that has never been seen today. Dunno why it'd be found in TAL, though, it's a terrible place to find yourself in. Some say it's because it leeches onto you and sucks out a pint of blood with each swallow when in thought of danger. But people still go after it because it's a good ingredient for special potions. It's an excellent sedative, as well. It's slime's supposed to make you feel calmer than anything that's ever been created."

"Wigan quit his job at Hogwarts for a _slug ...?"_ asked Liam, finally reeling his eyes back into the compartment. He had an unreadable expression on his face, somewhere in between confused and outraged. "That can't be the reason why?"

"And why not?" asked Hermione, sternly. "Wigan is a professional adventurer and author. His reason to capture an elusive mythical creature is highly for the purpose of benefitting the Wizarding race or, if not, his career. Even if it _is_ a slug."

Liam rolled his eyes wondering how she couldn't see what he was trying to say. "Well that's exactly it. He's going after a mythical creature ... _mythical_ creature. If you look that up in the dictionary, Ms-Know-It-All-Granger, then you'll know it means it might be only myth. A tale told in the olden days. Wigan would go after something that's never been seen before."

"Clearly you haven't met him," said Hermione.

"Cleary you haven't, either," retaliated Liam. "Look, yeah Wigan's a good adventurer and he's written tons of books, but they're all based on creatures that were recorded down from a long time ago – if you're going to ask me how I'd know that, Granger, it's because my dad happens to be his best friend," he added once seeing Hermione open her mouth. "He's hunted them down, proved to the people that this thing really has been seen before, but this – this slug has the same story every time. Wigan quit for something, all right, but it certainly wasn't to look for a nonexistent slug."

"Where'd that come from, Mister?" asked Ron. He and everyone else was shocked that Liam, above all people, could come up with a theory like that.

"My mother's Angela Clark ... it isn't very hard," said Liam. In some manner he felt he had the right to say that he'd also done it to sound smarter than Hermione Granger, the know it all who thought she knew it all about him, but he thought about the prospect. He didn't know Hermione enough to know what hurts her and what didn't, but he knew he didn't want to hurt her. He disliked her in some ways – many ways – but it wasn't enough to make her sad. In any fact, he hated it when people were sad. Even if they were strangers. Seeing a scene as such just boiled his stomach with such an unpleasant feeling that it becomes uncomfortable.

 _SNAP! SNAP! SNAP!_

Hermione's hand had appeared above her, snapping away at the sky as though it had no control. Liam stirred. She was frowning and looking directly at him.

"What's the matter with your hand? Does it hate you, too?" asked Liam, and she stopped.

"He didn't mean that ..." piped Harry.

"I know ..." said Hermione, but her expression said otherwise. "Stop staring at me!"

Liam hadn't noticed that his trail of thoughts about the girl who just about hated every factor of his wellbeing had him staring at her for the time being. His cheeks felt hot with embarrassment, but he didn't want to feel embarrassed, he wanted to retaliate. He put on a cheeky grin to draw attention away from his probably flushing cheeks and said, "Why? You scared of my eyes?"

Hermione rolled her own and then turned to Harry. "How is it possible for you cousin to be so obnoxious?"

"She didn't mean that –" said Harry.

"I know ..." growled Liam, but his voice didn't sound like he cared. Ron and Tessa looked at each other wondering what would happen next. "How is it possible that you became friends with _her?"_ He was going to wait for an answer, but one came to mind that he knew would get Hermione to shut up. "Oh. Right. They save you from a troll, didn't they. What happened, were you too afraid to face it yourself? Did you crawl under a sink to hide away from it? Or perhaps you were so desperate that you tried to hide in one of the stalls? I would have suspected you knew at least one spell to save yourself ..."

When Hermione didn't say anything, Liam smiled, but he was quite oblivious to the fact that her face had gone red. Either from anger or embarrassment. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't welcoming and everyone else saw that.

"Whoa, Hermione! You look like you want to punch him," said Ron.

"You bet –" said Hermione.

"I'd like to see you try," said Liam, snickering.

"Calm down, Granger, it's only us," said a voice from the compartment door. All head's snapped toward it.

"Oh, as if my day wasn't bad already," sighed Liam. Draco Malfoy was leaning on the compartment door, his pale, pointed face twisted into a smile. Dmitri McElroy stood near him with her arms folded across her chest and with a bit of attitude. Her brother, Adrian, stood closely beside her with his hands in his pockets. Behind them, in a close pack, was Crabbe and Goyle, snickering amongst themselves. A smile was on their faces, too, and that had them all wondering whether they and their party of cronies had been listening –– and enjoying –– Hermione and Liam's argument.

Draco Malfoy has been Harry's enemy –– and somewhat rival –– since the first day they met. Malfoy always seemed to always want better things than Harry did, and always seemed to want to be better than him in everything. The same intentions came across the McElroy twins, who look so alike that it was a wonder why they had different coloured hair. Dmitri, with her blonde-streaked brown hair, always made everything sound dramatic, which was the most annoying thing about her –– apart from her insults. Adrian, with his brown-streaked blonde hair, was always the one with the nasty attitude. Liam was sure he had the potential to be worse than all three of them combined.

"Why, Granger, I think your dirty blood's starting to show through your skin," mocked Dmitri in her dramatically enhanced voice.

Hermione was certainly now red with embarrassment. Every bit of anger washed off her face. She looked away from the group, ignored their jeers and laughter.

"What's the matter, Mudblood? Embarrassed much?" jeered Adrian.

As the snickering grew, so did the tension in the air. Harry felt his hands ball into fist, prepping themselves to fly through the air and make a very painful contact with Draco or Adrian's faces. Ron gritted his teeth so hard he was afraid they might break, but cared no less. Tessa was consoling her friend, who didn't seem to need it, and her expression was incredulous. However, Liam – among the five of them – was oddly the first one to act.

He stood, anger riddled on his face, and literally spat, _"Shut it!"_

Draco, Adrian and Dmitri just smiled. Draco then pretended to be afraid of him and said, "Ooh ... careful there, Slippy, we all remember what happened the last time you tried to help her."

He remembered it all too well, but it was because he knew that somehow Louis Nord –– Lord Valindor –– had something to do with it. Not because everyone was there. He had ran, head first, into the wall behind him because in his mind he thought he was being chased by Venus Sting. It ended him up in the hospital wing with a slight concussion; Harry shortly joined after nearly being grounded into dust by a rogue bludger controlled by Dobby the house-elf as an attempt to protect him.

"In any case, why're you even helping her?" asked Dmitri. "We all heard your little argument. I'm surprised you two didn't wake up that old thing lying against the window."

"His name's R.J Lupin and he's a professor at the school," said Hermione, doggedly.

"We weren't talking to you, Mudblood!" said Dmitri, hardly recognising what Hermione said – probably because she didn't think it worth her time.

"Enjoy it while it lasts," said Liam, grinning yet there was still a very angered expression on his face, "because you won't be enjoying anything else much longer!"

"Oh, is Little Clark Junior _in love?"_ mocked Draco.

"With _her?"_ spat Liam, outraged. "I'd rather be thrown out of the train!"

"Yeah, me too," commented Hermione.

"And in any fact, the only person who gets to insult her is me ... at least I do it nicely," said Liam. Hermione rolled her eyes. "And don't ever call me Clark Junior again. That name is reserved for the people I actually give a damn about."

"Watch your tongue, Clark!" spat Adrian. The train gave an unexpected jerk, stirring the crowd by the door and almost knocking Liam over. All it did was widen the smiles they all had. "You better sit down before _really_ get thrown off the train."

Liam sat, not wanting to take the risk. He had the same red anger Hermione had on for him on his face. He really looked like he wanted to punch him. It actually looked like a crazy desire.

"Anyway," began Malfoy, "Weasel, I heard your family got to hold real gold this year. I'm sure your mother died of a heart attack."

This time Ron stood. He stood so quickly that it hardly was registered by the others.

"Shut up and go away!" yelled Harry, before Ron could try anything stupid.

Professor Lupin snorted and a silence followed after. The train gave another jerk.

"You Slytherins must be real thick if you think picking up a fight under a teacher's nose is a good idea," said Liam. "So why don't you run along and mind your own business."

Another silence. Dmitri and Adrian looked at each other, then at Lupin, then at Malfoy, who looked at them. Malfoy's eyes had then flittered towards the teacher.

"Come on," said Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle seemed upset about the fact that they had to leave. "Let's go."

"They're not worth our time, anyway," continued Adrian.

Ron sat once they were all out of sight. His knuckles were white and his angered expression hadn't gone away.

"If they make another comment on my family, I'll –"

"Pipe it," said Liam, who, although had his eyebrows furrowed, looked otherwise calmer than a few seconds before. "There's no use blabbing on about something idiots like the McElroys and their new friend do. That's wasting our time. If they come up to us again with something else, we'll know what to do. I think it's on all our minds."

Ron, who was still quite angry, agreed with that and then went onto massaging his knuckles. Liam had barely leaned against the window when he heard,

"Thank you."

It was so soft he barely thought anyone had said anything. But he had looked up at Hermione, head in his hand, and saw that she had something of a sympathetic look on her face. One that was threatening to go away if he didn't talk anytime soon.

"I may dislike you, but I _hate_ them," said Liam, flickering a smile. "Besides, an enemy of my enemy is my enemy, right? I wouldn't count you as an enemy, though. Just ... someone I don't really like."

The corners of his mouth curled when he thought he may have seen a smile on Hermione's face. He would have mocked her on that, if he hadn't just done the same thing himself. He just kept looking out the window, which kept getting darker and darker from the frosty rain outside.

"I need to tell you guys something," Harry said.

They all looked at him.

"Is it –" Liam had asked but Harry cut him off by nodding.

Harry then explained everything about Sirius Black being after him. He seemed at ease, and so did Liam. However, it was unfortunately only something the two of them shared. Hermione and Tessa bore similar expressions. They were both very shocked and a large amount of concern was riddled in their faces. Ron was still. Nothing showed how he felt.

"How is it possible that you are not bothered by this?" Tessa questioned Liam.

"He's insensitive ––" said Hermione.

"No!" snapped Liam, rolling his eyes at her. "I was there when we heard it. The shocked drained out of me."

"How can this 'drain out' of you?" asked Hermione.

"I was under the same circumstances, if you don't remember," said Liam.

"I'm going to stop the conversation if you two are going to bicker again," said Harry.

"She's the one who started it," mumbled Liam.

"You're not five," said Harry. He looked at Hermione after. "Neither are you."

"How'd you expect he's done it?" asked Ron, his tone evidently giving away that he wanted to move on with the matter. "Black, I mean. How'd he break out of Azkaban?"

"I dunno," said Harry. "My question's rather why he'd be coming after me? I didn't do much but be a baby, really."

"But no one knows that," said Tessa. "Everyone believes both you and Liam had some extraordinary power to defeat the Dark Lords. It's the only thing that makes sense to them. It's the only thing that makes sense to Black, and if that's what he's after you for, then it means he blames you for him being apprehended. For him losing _everything_. I only makes sense, right?"

Harry had heard it all before. He'd listen to Mr and Mrs Williams explain the exact reason why before, and it hadn't purged the odd feeling he got that there was something more to this story. To Black's story. He had to admit that he'd felt it before, but he was unsure where. Perhaps with Venus? After all, it was under the same circumstance.

After a while of thinking, Harry just felt uncomfortable about the whole thing. They had all gone quiet, watching him slip into his thoughts. When he stirred, he smiled and said, "Let's talk about something happier —"

"Hogsmeade!" Ron blurted. Harry's stomach sank and he shut his eyes. _I forgot to get the form signed!_ he thought. He wanted to slap himself, knock some sense into him, punish his idiotic whim for making him forget something as such. However, he didn't want to let them know about it. Especially Liam as they all know that he could have asked his Aunt Angela and Uncle Thomas to sign the form.

"I believe you meant Honeydukes, dear Ron," said Liam with a wide smile on his face.

"Oh, I did." Ron grinned, and then looked to the ceiling with a sort of daze.

"Sorry ... what's Honeydukes?" asked Tessa.

Ron's head had snapped back to her.

"A sweetshop," said Ron and Liam at the same time.

"Always rely on Liam and Ron to be excited about something like that," said Tessa, rolling her eyes. "What I'm more interested about is the history behind it. I heard it's the only settlement that consists of just wizards."

Hermione's face lit up brightly. "You read about that, too ––"

"They've got everything there, Harry. _Everything,"_ spat Ron.

"Pepper Imps!" Liam yelled, his mouth wide opened. "They make your mouth smoke ––"

"Great fat Chocoballs full of strawberry mousse and clotted cream," said Ron.

"Ooh! I would really like to try one of those sugar quills –– I'd use them all the time during Potions if I had to," said Liam. Ron nodded in agreement. "You can chew on them all day long and it would look like your concentrating."

Harry saw Hermione roll her eyes, probably as a gesture that she was disliking him even more. Then she turned to Harry, something that caught him off guard, and opened her mouth to speak.

"There are more interesting facts about Hogsmeade, Harry," she said. Harry braced himself for what she was about to say next. "In the 1612 goblin rebellion, the inn was used as headquarters. And there is a place that is supposed to be extremely haunted. They call in the Shrieking Shack ––"

"–– what about those massive sherbet balls that make you levitate a few inches off the ground while you're sucking them," said Ron. Liam appeared to nearly melt at the mention of it.

Hermione sighed and then looked at Tessa, who looked at Harry.

"I'm sure you'd love to do some exploring in Hogsmeade, won't you, Harry?"

"I only wish I could," said Harry, shutting up Liam and Ron.

"What d'you mean?" asked Liam.

"I can't go to Hogsmeade," said Harry.

"'Course you can ... didn't you give the form to my mum and dad?" asked Liam.

"I forgot."

"You forgot?" asked Ron, outraged.

"Yeah, I forgot," said Harry. "Well, first it was because my uncle and aunt –– the Dursleys, not your parents, Liam –– told me they'd sign it if I was nice around Aunt Marge. Given the outcome of that day, I didn't expect to get anything signed. Then we were at the Leaky Cauldron and I was kind of having a good time ... and I forgot to give it to your parents to sign. To be fair, they only came back yesterday."

"That's too bad," said Ron, lost for words. "But –– but I'm sure someone would give you permission. McGonagall? McDonald? Sunderland? Sunderland seems to like the two of you."

"Or you can just send the slip to my parents by owl," said Liam. "They'd send it back signed. Just make sure you remember to put _I'm sorry for being an idiot and not bringing it to you in the first place_ on the letter."

For some reason, that brought a smile to Harry's face (despite the sudden mood the mention of Hogsmeade had him in). Harry hardly noticed that he playfully punched Liam in the arm and started to laughed.

"Well, at least that cheered you up ––"

 _GRUMBLE!_

"Bloody hell, Ron, what are you housing in that stomach of yours?" said Liam. Again, Harry had the urge to laugh.

"I'm hungry, mind you! Hey ––" he spat, looking at Hermione. An orange, furry ball now sat on her lap. "Get that thing back in its cage!"

"Calm down, Ron!" Hermione snapped. "Crookshanks won't do anything to Scabbers."

"Oh you damn hope he doesn––" Ron caught Lupin stirring, and he shut his mouth. The sleeping professor lay still on the darkened window.

"Looks like we're slowing down," said Tessa, being the first to break the silence.

"Great!" said Ron, standing. "It's not good to keep a hungry stomach waiting."

"We can't have been there already," said Hermione, trying to see where they were though the misted window. She couldn't see anything, though, but it didn't appear as though they had been at the castle yet. "The trip was shorter than usual."

"Great, so we're stuck in the middle of the railroad with nothing to eat," said Ron. Harry stood to look out of the compartment. Dozens of heads lined up the walkway, all wondering, like Harry, what had been going on. "Boy, I wish that food cart would come round about now."

"It could be worse," said Liam, who used his efforts to lean on the window again, his palm planted into his cheek. "We could be sitting here in complete darkness ––"

Immediately after he said that, as though he were a trigger, all the lamps blew out, leaving them –– like Liam feared –– in complete darkness.

"Nice going, Liam!" groaned Ron.

"Okay, I did _not_ mean that literally," said Liam, looking around the ceiling as though hoping it would grant him some light.

Harry felt his way back to his seat.

"Must've broken down, right?" asked Ron.

"Probably," answered Harry. "Hopefully they can start up again. I'm sure you're not the only one hungry around here."

A squeaking noise sounded, and Ron looked toward the window in hope of catching Liam.

"Oi! See what's out there!" whispered Ron.

Harry saw Liam's dark outline grabbing his sleeve and then using it to wipe a circle near his head.

"I can't see much –– but there's definitely something moving out there," said Liam.

"D'you think people are coming aboard?" asked Ron.

"Doubt it," said Liam, taking another glance through his small circle. "But it's a possibility."

Suddenly the compartment door opened and was followed by a loud ––

" _Ouch!"_

"Sorry ... I really need to watch where I'm going."

"Neville? Is that you?" asked Harry.

"Harry?" asked Neville. "Oh. Good thing I got a compartment with someone I know."

"Do you know what's going on, Neville?" asked Hermione. "Because if you don't, I'm going to have a word with the driver."

"Sorry, I don't."

"Right!" There was a muffled thud, and then a dark outline strode across the apartment in front of Harry. _"Ouch!"_

This time, two voices came in unison.

"Who's this?" asked Hermione.

"Who's _this?"_

"Ginny?"

"Hermione?"

"D'you have an idea what on earth is going on here?" asked Ginny.

"I was just about to go ask the driver."

"Right, considering Ginny arrived just in time to stop you from going anywhere, can you sit down please!" spat Liam. _"Owe!_ Not _there!"_

"You asked me to sit down!"

"Yeah ... it's a simple few steps to your seat! You didn't have to take the detour across my feet!"

"Oh, calm down!"

" _Owe!"_ yelled Ron. "Blimey, Hermione, did you backtrack or something."

"Sorry."

A high pitched sound rang in the compartment. Silence fell. Again they looked at the window. The little circle Liam wiped into it was now frosting up, and the surrounding perimeter around it spiked with thin cracks. Liam barely nicked the glass with his finger before it swiftly retreated to his other hand. He was rubbing it warm.

"That doesn't look good ... and it's as cold as hell ..." said Liam, inching further and further away from the window; he feared it would spontaneously shatter.

"You should probably get away from the window," said a hoarse voice and Liam went still.

"Who said that?" asked Liam, slowly.

"Keep quiet!" he spat.

Professor Lupin appeared to have woken up, even after the rough trip and the unnecessary shouting. After a moment, a fiery light erupted from the palm of his hand, but it did not illuminate the compartment.

"Do not move," said Lupin. Him and his ball of fire were inching closer to the compartment door, but it opened before he could reach it.

Lupin's shaggy brown hair was blown into his face by a frosty, cold wind. The flames in Lupin's hand illuminated on cloaked figure standing in the doorway. Its face was hidden under its hood. A swift movement caught Harry's attention; a hand was snaking its way out from underneath the cloak. It look nearly raw. It shun, scabbed and slimy.

But it returned to the folds of the cloak. The thing underneath the hood drew a long, slow breath, gliding past Lupin in a swift stride and towered Harry in his seat. Harry could feel the very air around him thin, and his breath seized suddenly in his chest. The cold air seemed to have penetrated his skin, like tiny shards of icicles piercing every cell over and over again.

"Stop it!" he heard Lupin's hoarse voice yell, but it seemed distant.

"Leave my cousin alone!" this time Liam spoke, and yet again he sounded distant. He saw his blurred figure jumping in front of him, but it disappeared almost immediately.

Harry's eyes rolled up into his head. He could see nothing. He was drowning deeper and deeper into the cold. He could feel himself being dragged down the pressurising cold. And suddenly he was far away. The only thing he could hear was a loud, piercing scream. It was a terrible, pleading scream. Someone needed help, and Harry was desperate to do so but he couldn't. He was refrained from doing it ... his arms tied down by an invisible force ... a thick fog swam around him —


	5. Grim News

CHAPTER FOUR

Grim News

"Harry! _Harry!"_

Someone was slapping his face.

"Wha— what?"

Harry opened his eyes. The compartment had light again and the Hogwarts Express was in motion once more. Harry got up. Hermione and Ron were by his side, a scared expression on both their faces. Lupin and Neville were standing above him. Ginny was sitting, tucked away in the corner of the compartment and Tessa was tending to a pale Liam who was securely holding a large sack, daubed red, to his nose.

"Are you okay, mate?" Ron asked Harry.

"Yeah — Liam, your nose —"

"Don' wowwy abou' me," said Liam, his voice sort of nasally.

"What happened — who screamed?"

"No one screamed," said Ron with his eyebrow raised.

"But —"

"Must'b been in ya head," said Liam.

 _SNAP!_

They all jumped and looked at Professor Lupin. He was breaking a large slab of chocolate into pieces.

He threw a large piece to Harry and said, "Eat it all, Harry." And then he was handing pieces to everyone else. Harry did not eat his piece immediately.

"Hold it steady, Liam," said Lupin, throwing a piece to Liam. "The cold is unbearable, I know, but it will help clot the blood quicker and the concoction I managed to dip in it will mend the broken cartilage."

Liam fixed the sack onto his nose and winced. Harry noticed the pinkish liquid that now streamed down his arm; melted ice, he thought. What happened to Liam? Better yet, what happened to him?

"A dementor," said Lupin as Harry opened his mouth to speak. "One of the Azkaban prison guards."

"What did they want?" asked Harry.

"Sirius Black." There was a moment's hesitation, and then Lupin crumpled up the empty chocolate wrapper and put it in his pocket. "They were checking the train to see if Black was among us. I'm not entirely sure why they would have targeted you, Harry, but I do know the dementors are very prominent for uncanny occurrences. You would want to stay away from them."

"That'll be my firs' approach," squeaked Liam. His nasally voice made him sound as sick as he should have been. He, again, moved the sack around his nose. The pinkish liquid poured down his arm and dripped off his elbow into his lap.

"Eat the chocolate, Harry," said Lupin, fastening his cloak and heading to the door. "I need to have a word with the driver. Excuse me —"

Lupin's cloak billowed out after him. The moment he was gone, Harry fixed his head on Liam.

" _Owe!_ What in the soddin' hell did Lupin pu' on this?" he moaned, looking, cock-eyed, at the red sack that replaced his nose.

There was an unmistakable unpleasant click coming from his direction; the bridge of his nose automatically shifted. It made Harry cringe.

"What _happened_ to you?" asked Harry.

"My nose is the twophy of twyin' to save your life," said Liam. A certain look glazed over his face. Harry couldn't determine whether he was annoyed or pretending to be annoyed. "D'you know how uncomfwable this is? I can' move this thwing until my nose fweels like a clouded bwain, or I'll bleed to death — slowly, but surely."

"Wait — what?"

"That thwing — the dementor — or whatever the hell they want to call it — it went over to you — it did somefin', I know that much — I sort of _fwelt_ it — it was weird, I dunno what it was abwout — what I do know, thwough, is that the minute I jumped in fwont of you, I was on the floor with a bloody bwoken nose," said Liam. "Everywone says I fwell, face fwirst, into the compartment seat. Don' wemember much of the trip down, thwough."

"Wait ... Say that again?" asked Harry. All he was getting through so far was that the dementor did something to him and Liam broke his nose. He didn't know how he, himself, landed on the floor or where the screaming came from.

"Well — the dementor — it kind of stood there and looked around — I think — I'm not entirely sure — I couldn't see its face — as for you — you — you kind of —" stammered Hermione.

"You went sort of rigid, after that, and fell out of your seat," said Ron. "I thought you were having some fit or something. You started twitching, even."

"Professor Lupin stepped over you and pointed his wand at the dementor," said Hermione. "In a sum up he said that Sirius Black wasn't with us. He told it to go but the dementor didn't move. So Lupin said something –– I couldn't hear what, but I suspect it was a spell because some kind of silvery thing shot out of his wand and –– well –– it glided away."

"Just like that?" asked Harry.

"Jus' like that," replied Liam.

"It was terrible!" spat Neville, although his voice was unusually high. "Did anyone else feel how cold it got when it came in?"

"Yeah ..." said Liam. "Like evwery bit of happiness was sucked out of me and was never to return."

"It was _horrible_ ," said Ginny in a soft voice. She gave a small sob. Hermione got up and went over to her, placing a comforting arm around her.

 _CLICK!_

" _Owe!"_ yelled Liam again. It appeared almost as if his hand slackened from holding the sack to his nose.

"Did any of you fall?" asked Harry.

"You mean apart from my unpleasant detour to the seat," said Liam, fixing the sack again. Harry could tell it was a painful and irritating sensation.

"None of us fell, Harry," Tessa finally piped up.

"Ginny was shaking, though," said Ron. "But nothing like what happened to you."

"I don't think I've met a thirteen-year-old who refuses to eat chocolate," said Lupin as he returned. There was a small smile on his face.

Harry shot Lupin a small smile back, and then took a bite of his chocolate. To his surprise he felt a warmth tickling up to his fingertips and toes.

"We'll be arriving at the school in ten minutes," said Lupin. "Are you all right, Harry? D'you feel in the slightest way better than before?"

Harry didn't answer immediately. He was wondering how Professor Lupin knew his name.

"I'm fine," murmured Harry. He could feel his cheeks burn hot and he was quite sure his face had turned pink with embarrassment.

Hardly anyone talked during the remainder of the trip. Liam eventually fell asleep with his hand fixed to his nose, the sack acting as a locked doorway of his nostrils. He had leaned against the window again, and Harry was sure if they were to ring the ends of his shirt out, there would be a pinkish puddle on the compartment floor.

Ron had occupied himself with a pack of chocolate frog cards he had in the front of his trunk. He was shuffling through his collection, trying to entertain himself. Ginny, Tessa and Hermione sat huddled together. Ginny still looked scared out of her wits and Hermione and Tessa were trying their best to keep her comfortable. Neville and Harry kept looking at each other as an act to entertain themselves. But all it did was conduct a few odd moments between the two.

The ten minutes it took to get to Hogwarts seemed like hours, but at last, they were there. Students scrambled to get outside, probably in fear of meeting the dementors again –– if they even had met the dementors. Owls were hooting, cats meowing, Neville's pet toad, Trevor, croaked from under his hat; at one stage he jumped and Neville stumbled a bit trying to secure the hat over his head. People were using some of their smaller luggage to cover themselves from the icy rain that showered upon them.

"Firs' years! Firs' years this way!" roared a familiar voice. Ron tapped Liam and Harry, both of whom where flanking him, and pointed in the direction of the enormous outlines of Hagrid and Dreagon. Hermione and Tessa had already turned to see them, their faces split into large smiles. Their two giant friends stood at the end of the platform, pointing the terrified-looking first years towards the lake to take the customary sail towards the castle.

"How are ya?" Dreagon yelled. Both Hagrid and Dreagon's enormous hands waved at them. They waved at them back, and Ron threw them a thumbs up. Before anything else happened, the crowd closed in and shunted them along the platform. Hermione and Tessa were in front of the boys, but didn't stray too far of from them. The followed the rest of the school to a rough mud track where dozens and dozens of stagecoaches awaited their arrival. Harry, Liam and Ron stopped right in their tracks. They hoped the coaches were being pulled by something invisible.

"You didn't know about it, either?" Harry asked his cousin as they resumed their walk to one of the coaches.

"I came a bit late," said Liam, still looking at the leads that were held up by the mere molecules of the air. "Dad twook me on his car. We arrived early enough to make it to the Ceremony. What's your excuse?"

"Long story short: Dobby blocked us from reaching platform nine and three quarters as ––"

"Let me guess ... an attempt to save you?" asked Liam.

"Yeah ... and ... well ... we kinda had to drive Mr Weasley's car to the school," said Harry.

"Weelly?" Liam was smiling. It was probably the first time he smiled since the dementors came around. "That must'b been weelly cool, drivin' a car to the school. Dad would'b been weelly pwoud to hear it."

"Yeah, but Aunt Ange would go ballistic," laughed Harry.

Liam scoffed.

"You know it," he said. He fixed the sack to his nose again.

"The trip wasn't very successful, though," said Harry. "We ended up driving it into the Whomping Willow and got detention for ruining school property."

"The Whompin' Willow?"

"Bloody dangerous tree, mate," said Ron.

Liam furrowed his brows.

"Fwunny, I never thwought I'd ever hear someone say thwat a _tree_ was dangerous," said Liam. And then he was laughing. It was a nasally kind of laugh, like Liam was trying his best to make it sound normal without breaking out into fits of coughs.

"It's no joke, Liam!" said Ron. "I'm surprised Dumbledore and McGonagall didn't tell Snape off for giving us detention at the cost of our lives."

"What does this "Whomping Willow" do ... whack you?" laughed Liam.

" _Yes!"_

Liam's laughter died down, but only because they were reaching a coach. Hermione and Tessa were chatting amongst themselves already, waiting for the three boys to climb on. When they had done so, the carriage began to trod down the mud track towards the magnificent silhouette of Hogwarts castle.

As the carriage rolled towards a pair of wrought iron gates, that were flanked with stone columns topped with winged boars, Harry shivered and looked up. He saw two more hooded dementors, towering the grounds as the students rolled past in the carriages. A cold wave washed over them, and Harry had the strange urge to drown under it again. He slumped down into the lumpy seat and closed his eyes until he was sure they were gone. They had picked up speed along the sloping drive up to the castle.

 _CLICK!_

"D'you thwink I can take thwis off now?" asked Liam, again looking, cock-eyed, at the sack. "I didn't feel any pain thwis time."

"It still looks crooked," said Ron, cringing at the sight of Liam's misplaced nose. _"That's disgusting!"_

Harry couldn't agree more. Liam had removed the sack, which seemed more dipped in blood than in had looked. His nose was shaping around a piece of skew bone, curved at the bridge. It appeared as though he tried to breathe through it. Then suddenly a mild song of soft clicks came, and his nose shifted back into place. Hermione forced herself to look out of the carriage. Tessa shut her eyes and Harry and Ron broke into a roar of "eww"s.

"Whoa!" said Liam, feeling around his now straight nose. "Thwat is one uncomfwable sensation." His voice still sounded nasally and his nose was still a blotchy shade of red and purple. "Looks like we're stoppin'. You all can stop fretting over my nose."

Hermione and Tessa were the first ones out, followed by Ron. Liam jumped off next and the moment Harry's feet touched the ground, he heard a choir of delighted voices.

"You fainted, Potter? Is Longbottom telling the truth? You actually fainted?"

Malfoy and the McElroy twins trooped past Ron, Hermione and Tessa in order to block their way up the stone steps.

"Ooh ... nasty nose there, Clark," said Dmitri. "Enjoy the trip down to the floor, did you?"

"Shut it!" said Ron, jaw clenched.

"Did you faint as well, Weasley?" said Adrian loudly. "Did the scary old dementor frighten you too, Weasley?"

"Shwove off!" said Liam, who tried his best to sound intimidating through his clogged nose.

The three Slytherins broke into fits of laughter, almost breaking the barricade they held up to the stone stairs. Adrian was over on his knees, and Dmitri hung onto him, trying to keep herself up.

"Is that what it did to you?" asked Malfoy, snickering. "It made Potter faint and you a thirteen-year-old baby?"

Their laughter only grew and Harry was surprised how red his cousin's face had gotten afterwards; it made his bruised nose have no meaning.

"Twat's not fwunny!" growled Liam. "Shut it, bwefore I make your noses look worst than mine!"

"Do we have a problem here?" came a mild voice. Professor Lupin had just arrived from one of the carriages.

Adrian and Dmitri straightened up and their faces, along with Malfoy, had morphed into something else. The three of them stared at Professor Lupin, their eyes speeding down the man's somewhat tousled appearance, ending particularly on his patched robes and his ramshackle suitcase.

"Problem?" piped up Adrian, a smile forming. "I don't think we have a _pwoblem_ , do we _Dwaco_?"

They all knew he had done that intentionally to mock Liam, whose eyes almost no longer looked blue.

"No," said Draco. "I don't _thwink_ we do, _Adwian_. _Sowwy_ for the trouble, _Pwofessor_."

"We'll be off, now," said Dmitri. " _Fweel_ better soon, _Pwotter_ and _Cwark_."

They smirked and jumped up the stairs.

Hermione gave Ron a little prod in the back to make him hurry, and the five of them joined the crowd. The giant oak front doors stood wide open, welcoming all the students into the warm, cavernous entrance hall. The marble staircase glistened in the light of the flaming torches.

"Granger! Potter! Clark!" called a voice.

Professor McGonagall had been weaving through and passed students, minding a second year Hufflepuff as he dropped his owl cage in front of her. She had been one of the Transfiguration teachers and the head of Gryffindor House. She was a stern-looking witch who wore her hair in a tight bun, and her sharp eyes were framed with square glasses.

"Professor McDonald and I would like to have a word with the three of you," said McGonagall as she reached them.

Harry and Liam looked at each other, and then at McGonagall. Harry saw, through the corner of his eyes, that Hermione didn't look as though she was expecting this either. Harry felt uneasy about this, and he knew Liam must have been feeling the same way. The three followed McGonagall out of the crowd either way –– after asking Tessa and Ron to keep them a seat at the Gryffindor table. They made sure to stay a respectful distance behind her, Hermione was a little bit closer.

"It can' be thwat bad if Hermione's with us, rwight" said Liam.

He made a point, but it did not ease the foreboding feeling that sunk Harry's heart because he could hear the evident doubt in his voice. Perhaps he wasn't trying to sound confident, but was looking for an agreement from Harry.

He didn't say anything. He just kept walking.

Once they were in her office, which was small and had a large, welcoming fire, Professor McGonagall pointed at three seats placed behind her desk. Professor McDonald had been there, sitting silently with a small smile on her face.

Professor McDonald had been the other Transfiguration professor and Head of Gryffindor. She had an extremely hawkish and mousy face that made her stern look permanent.

Professor McGonagall sat beside her.

"Well, by the looks of it, what Professor Lupin put in his owl was correct," Professor McDonald said. "Potter, you were taken ill and Clark, you broke your nose."

Before either of them could have the chance to reply, a knock came from the door and Madam Pomfrey and Madam Madison, the Hogwarts matrons, came in.

Harry was just happy Liam had been with him. His presence had neutralised the embarrassed feeling he had endured. Especially for the fact that Liam broke his nose because he jumped in front of Harry. Harry saw that Liam had mouth something remotely similar to "oh no" to himself. He knew why.

Liam had hated anything and everything that had to do with the Hospital Wing. He never told him the reason why, but Harry always suspected that it was because he practically lived in one at home, given that the Clarks were doctors. Liam once joked that in winter, he couldn't go to bed without telling his parents that he had his special thermal blanket with him.

"I knew we'd be seeing Clark, but nobody said anything about Potter," said Madam Pomfrey. "Have you been getting up to nonsense again, Mr Potter."

"It was a dementor, Poppy," said Professor McGonagall.

"Those dementors will be the death of these poor children," said Madam Madison, examining Harry's forehead. Madam Pomfrey had been checking his pulse. "We were part of the voting party that said not to allow them in here, by the way."

"We can assure you, he won't be the last to collapse," said Madam Pomfrey, now opening his eyes wide and staring right into them. "He's clammy, yes ... he'll need some rest, I think. Don't worry, Mr Potter, there are a lot of people like you who are delicate to those blasted things."

"I'm not delicate!" said Harry crossly.

"Anything we need to do in particular that would heal his state?" asked Professor McGonagall. "Should he be kept in bed for a while, or perhaps he should stay a night in the hospital wing."

"I'm _fine!"_ Harry rushed in. Liam may have hated the Hospital Wing, but Harry had equivalent dislike for the place.

"He should at least have some chocolate," said Madam Madison.

"I've already had some," said Harry. "Professor Lupin gave me some. He gave it to all of us."

"Did he?" asked Madam Pomfrey. Both the matrons stopped and looked up at each other with a smile on their faces. "Finally, a Defence Against the Dark Arts professor who has some common sense."

"Are you sure you feel all right, Potter?" Professor McDonald asked sharply.

Harry nodded.

"Very well," said both the matrons in unison. Then they turned to face Liam and jumped immediately. _"Good heavens!"_

Liam had his fingers in his ears, trying to block out the incredibly loud screams from the nurses. The next moment their hands weaved around his arms and shoulders, and his face was forced up.

"We were called to you for your potions!" said Madam Madison, taking his face by the chin and moving it from side to side so that she saw every bit of his swollen, blotchy nose.

"No one said anything about your nose, dear boy," said Madam Pomfrey. "What in the name of Merlin did you do to it?"

"Minor casuwalty," said Liam.

"Oh, he even sounds bad," Madam Madison conferred with Madam Pomfrey. "What did you do to your poor nose, boy?"

"I bwoke it!" said Liam, casually. The matrons looked at him as though he were mad. "Mistakenly!"

"How did you break it, is the question, Clark?" asked Madam Pomfrey.

"I twied to swave his life fwom the dementor," said Liam. "Now, what's thwis you swaid about the pwotions?"

"For your illness," said Professor McGonagall. "Your mother and father notified the school that you had fallen a little sick. They sent us the assortment of potions that will soon enough heal you."

"We just wanted to tell you that the kitchen has your assortment with them," said McDonald. "And when you need it, which I'm sure you know when, you need to tap the table three times at whatever seat you are seated in. The tray will appear out of nowhere. When you're done with the potions, tap the table again, only this time tap it four times. Make sure you have all the bottles in the tray when you're done with it."

"Okay," said Liam, whose face was still being oscillated in the hands of Madam Madison.

"We need to give you something for your nose ––"

"Professor Lupin already did," said Liam. "My nose was worse than this before."

"The Headmasters hired someone decent, this time," said Madam Pomfrey, nodding approvingly.

"Are you two both sure you're all right?" asked McGonagall.

"Yeah," said Harry and Liam in unison.

"Well then, I guess you may leave," said Professor McDonald. "Wait outside, will you? We need a quick word with Ms Granger about her course schedule. We can go down to the feast together, afterwards."

Harry and Liam followed the two matrons out the door, but stopped to wait in the corridor as they went off to the hospital wing. They only had to wait a few minutes, muttering a few things about what had just happened to them. Then Hermione had come out with Professor McGonagall and McDonald following after. They had then made their way down the marble stairs and into the Great Hall.

Each table was lined with students. The candles floated above head, closer to the ceiling. They spotted Professor Flitwick, who was a small wizard with white hair, carrying an ancient hat and a three-legged stool out of the hall.

"We've missed the Sorting Ceremony," mumbled Hermione.

Professor McDonald and Professor McGonagall, after patting Liam and Harry on the back, strode off towards their empty seats at the staff table. Liam, Harry and Hermione set off towards the Gryffindor table as quietly as possible. Many students had looked their way. Liam tried to force himself to believe it was because they had been late, or perhaps because they had walked in with the Heads of Gryffindor House. But there had been an eery feeling inside that made him think it was because of a different reason. Harry's encounter with the dementor, maybe. Or maybe his big, blotchy nose.

Harry and Hermione seated themselves first; on either side of Ron. Tessa had moved up to allow space for Hermione, and Liam sat next to Harry on the other side.

"C'mon," said Ron, softly. "Spit it out. What happened?"

Harry explained in a whisper, but he stopped when the headmasters stood.

Professor Albus Dumbledore and Professor Fredrick Glumberry where the headmasters, and, although they were rather old, had stored a special kind of energy apiece for occasions as such. They looked so much like each other, but Harry and Liam were sure it wouldn't be so if their several foot long, silvery beards had been shaved off. They both still had crooked noses and spectacles, though. Dumbledore's had been a half-moon pair, and Glumberry's were round like Harry's.

Many people respected them because they were noted to be two of the most powerful wizards of all time. But for Harry and Liam, it was different. You would have to put up a lot of nerve not to like them, it was sort of impossible. They specially liked when they spoke together as though one person.

"Welcome!" said Dumbledore, his eyes gleaming through his half-moon spectacles, smile radiating to even the far end of the hall.

"Yes, welcome indeed!" said Glumberry. His beard was shimmering in the bright gleam of the candlelight. "We have a few things to say to you all, one of which is very, very serious. We think it is suited better to get it out of the way before we dive in."

"Let's start with the nicer news, shall we?" asked Dumbledore, and then he cleared his throat. "First of all, we would like to welcome two new staff members taking over the role of Defence Against the Dark Arts professors. Professors Remus Lupin" the hall erupted in a roar of claps as Professor Lupin stood from his seat, "and Venus Sting."

There was a silence.

Harry and Liam's godfather stood from his seat. They both looked at him, eyes wide. Venus Sting stood proud with his face split into a wide, warming smile, despite the sudden silence that followed after his name. He looked a lot more decent than before; his long, blonde hair was cut short and combed to the side; his beard was trimmed to his face, only just making out the rough stubble along his jaw. He wore robes that pretty much said he kept himself better than Professor Lupin did, for a former inmate. Instead of claps, the students murmured, some with traumatised expressions, some with confusion. Even Hermione and Tessa looked uncomfortable about the situation. The jail breaker was back, only this time he was invited into the comforts of the Great Hall.

"Now, now. I'm sure we can give Professor Sting a better welcome than that," said Professor Glumberry. There was a hint of disappointment in his voice, something very rare. However, all that happened after was another silence. And then someone clapped. Then another. And another. It was a broken line of awkward claps, one after the other in a unrhythmic song, and then they all stopped at once.

Dumbledore cleared his throat again.

"Yes, we know Professor Sting has had quite a bad reputation, however, a reputation that has been proven wrong," said Dumbledore. "Sting had not been involved with the Dark Lords by any means, not even by Killing Curse. I hope you all know that the Ministry had Garrick Ollivander in to check his wand to splinters. He found not a single spell of the sort."

"It requires a great amount of skill to be able to detect spells from years prior, which is why they had a professional as Garrick Ollivander to do it," said Glumberry. "But because of the uneasy reaction from the public after setting him free, Professor Sting has decided to do something to prompt his innocence, and what better way to do that than to show his comfortable post as a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

Harry and Liam found everything wrong with that sentence. Allowing a former inmate to teach at a school full of kids was possibly the worst idea ever. They could see that almost everybody agreed with that, even Draco Malfoy and the McElroy twins, who had conferred with each other, all with scared expressions until they had noticed Harry and Liam looking at them. They had scowled at them, and looked away.

Harry and Liam looked at each other at the same time, realising the similarities of their thoughts, then looked up at Venus, whose jubilant face cast upon them. Venus then sat as Professor Dumbledore and Glumberry finished their little introduction of him. His smile was still on, as though someone had hexed it to stay on permanently.

"Now, I'm sure you have seen Miss Melissa Reece today. She is a first-year student who was Sorted into Gryffindor house," said Glumberry, his eyes sailing to the long line of the Gryffindor table, filling up either side. "Melissa's sister, Violet, is a transfer student from Divertente Institute of Sorcery. She arrived earlier to be Sorted this morning before the Hogwarts Express arrived. She will be joining her sister in the Gryffindor house as a third year student, shown around by Mr Callum Thompson."

The Hogwarts students finally learnt to clap, the Gryffindor house especially. A loud cheer came with it, and Harry and Liam searched up the Gryffindor table for Callum Thompson, who should have been on the Hogwarts Express with them. Finally, they met the round face of the black-haired boy. His face showed impassive emotion, so they could not tell whether or not he was dreading the fact that he, of all third-year students, was chosen to show around the new girl.

Peering next to him, they saw who they supposed was Violet Reece, grinning madly and going red. They found her oddly familiar. She had long, blonde hair, tied up at the back and her blue eyes crinkled with her ever-growing smile. She oddly reminded them of strawberries and marshmallows.

Glumberry cleared his throat this time, and the hall was silent once more.

"We are quite sure you are all aware of the fact that we are host to the dementors of Azkaban prison," said Glumberry, a grim expression washed his face. "They are here on Ministry business. They will be stationed at every entrance to the ground, and while they are with us, we must advise that no one is to leave the school without permission. You cannot fool a dementor with tricks and disguises –– not even an Invisibility Cloak would work."

"I guess that means the same for my ring," Liam whispered to Harry.

"Excuses and pleading is all but foreign to the dementors. Therefore we must ask each and every one of you to be vigilant, and give them no reason to harm you. We will be depending on the prefects and our new Head Boys and Girls to make sure that no students give the dementors a bad impression."

"On a happier note," said Dumbledore, "let's put all the news of these foul creatures aside and focus on our feast."

"The North Tower," heaved Liam, looking at his schedule. As he got to the landing, he propped himself up against the wall trying to catch his breath. His nose was just a bit darker than his skin now. The blotchy bruise had disappeared, a surprise considering it healed overnight. "If we have to walk this far every time, then Divination will be the death of me."

"I still don't understand how you two will be able to catch three lessons all at the same time," huffed Ron, following after. Harry had gotten annoyed because this conversation was on a loop since they sat down to eat in the Great Hall.

"What's it matter to you, anyway, Ron?" asked Liam, turning around sharply –– as sharply as a tired person could go, anyway. "They're not you. Stop worrying about them."

"Finally," said Hermione. "Words that came out of your mouth that actually made sense." Then she headed down the empty passage with Tessa following suit. The two of them broke into conversation up ahead.

It took a while before they met another flight of stairs. They climbed them, heaving one foot after the other, growing tired with every step they took. They got to the landing, where most of the class had already been, and looked up to a trapdoor. On it was a brass plaque spelling out:

 **Sybil Trelawney**

 **DIVINATION**

"Exactly how does she expect to get us up there?" asked Harry. Immediately, the trapdoor opened, letting fall a silvery ladder.

"Ladies first," Ron said, grinning at Hermione and Tessa. They went up, Harry followed after with Liam and Ron, and the rest of the class, on his tail.

Hermione and Tessa already found a seat next to each other, but Harry stopped the moment he emerged into the place. It was strange-looking. Harry found it hard to see the difference between someone's attic and an old-fashioned tea shop. Twenty small, circular tables were crammed tightly together, scattered around the place without any particular order. The windows were all dressed with thick, crimson curtains. The lamps all draped in red scarves. The air around them felt as though it would choke them as it was stuffy and warm, and to top it all off, the fire burning under the mantelpiece emitted a rich perfume, making it sick to breathe.

"Take a seat, dear cousin, you're not doing anyone any good just standing at the trapdoor," said Liam. He was grinning, as well as tapping the armchair next to him. Ron had been on the other side of the indicated chair, looking at Harry with a similar grin on his face. Harry sat in between them.

"Where is she?" asked Ron.

A voice came suddenly out of the shadows, a soft, misty sort of voice.

"Welcome," it said. "How nice to see you in the physical world at last."

" _Physical world?"_ Liam softly said in Harry's ear.

Professor Trelawney moved into the firelight. She was very thin, slender, even. Her spectacles were like a pair of magnifying glasses, enlarging her eyes seven times the normal size. They made her look like an insect. A loosely woven spangled shawl covered her like a blanket. Her lean neck was swathed and veiled with chains and beads, and her arms and hands had bangles and rings all around them.

"Sit, children, sit," she said. All the other surrounding students awkwardly seated themselves into the armchairs, otherwise onto the poufs.

"Welcome to Divination," said Professor Trelawney. She swayed into a winged armchair in front of the scented fire. "My name is Professor Trelawney. None of you have seen me before. I find mingling with the casual bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye."

Liam, Ron and Harry looked at each other, all with a mask of "what did we get ourselves into".

"So you have all chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you now, if you do not have the Sight, there is not much you will be able to learn from me. Books can take you only so far in this field …

"Many witches and wizards are unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future," said Professor Trelawney. "It is a mere Gift. A Gift granted to few –– you, boy!" she had a slender finger, Harry thought may have been a red-ended breadstick (as her nails were painted red), pointed at Neville. "Is your grandmother well?"

"I think so," said Neville.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that, if I were you, dear," said Trelawney. "We will be covering the basic methods of Divination this year. The first term will be devoted to reading the tea leaves. Next term we shall progress to palmistry. Oh, dear, could you possibly be so kind as to pass me the largest silver teapot."

She was pointing at Lavender Brown, who got off her chair and took a large teapot from the shelf and then placed it right in front of Professor Trelawney on the table.

"Right, you are to get into pairs of two and collect a teacup from the shelf, come to me, and I will fill it. Then sit down and drink, drink until only the dregs remain. Swill these around the cup three times with the left hand, then turn the cup upside down on its saucer, wait for the last of the tea to drain away, then give your cup to your partner to read. You will interpret the patterns using pages five and six of _Unfogging the Future_. I shall move among you, helping and instructing."

The lesson was nearly over and all Harry, Ron and Liam managed to achieve was creating an undefined blob at the bottom of their teacups. They supposed nothing would go right, considering they chose to defy the first instruction, which was to choose one partner. But who was the third going to choose if two of them decided to go in pairs. They knew no one better than they knew each other and if Trelawney had a thing against that, they honestly couldn't care less. In any fact, it did not seem as though there were enough students to make equal groups, anyway. Harry gave his cup to Ron to analyse, and Ron gave his to Liam, leaving Liam to give his to Harry.

"What d'you see in mine?" Ron asked Liam.

Liam looked at the teacup, then turned it around in hope of it changing his view.

"You've got some type of hook," said Liam, then he looked at _Unfogging the Future._ "Which means 'sticky endings' ... your narrow journey to success will end in death –– a 'hooked' ending, I guess."

Ron made a face.

"You're reading it wrong," said Harry, who was looking between the plate in Liam's hand and his copy of _Unfogging the Future._ "You've got a crooked sort of cross, which means you're going to have 'trials and suffering' — sorry about that — but there's a thing that could be the sun … hang on … that means 'great happiness' … so you're going to suffer but be very happy …"

"You two need to get your inner eyes tested," said Ron.

"All right, Smarty Pants, if you're so good at this why don't you tell us what's in Harry's cup," said Liam.

"There's a blob ... it looks like a bowler hat," said Ron.

"Oh, very observant, Mr Weasley," said Liam, sarcastically, clapping his hands.

"Oi! Shut it, will you," said Ron. "Maybe it means you'll work for the Ministry of Magic or something."

"Turn it around, maybe," said Harry. He couldn't really imagine himself working in the Ministry of Magic. If he did, he would probably be an assistant or something. Probably to Cornel or Fudge.

Ron turned the teacup.

"It looks like an acorn," said Ron. He skimmed through his copy of _Unfogging the Future._ "'A windfall, unexpected gold.' Excellent, you can lend me some … and there's a thing here," he turned the cup again, "that looks like an animal … yeah, if that was its head … it looks like a hippo … no, a sheep …"

Professor Trelawney whirled around as Harry and Liam let out a snort of laughter.

"Let me see that, my dear," she said. She took Harry's cup from him and everyone gathered around her to watch.

Professor Trelawney gazed right into the teacup, rotating it counterclockwise.

"The falcon ... dear me, you have a great enemy."

"Cause that's not known at all ..." said Liam sarcastically to Ron and Harry, who both grinned.

"Yeah, everyone knows that," said Hermione, loudly. Trelawney stared at her. "Well, they do. You-Know-Who ... and Liam's got Mr Who."

"Didn't know you were so concerned about my life to know about Mr Who," said Liam, a smug smile on his face.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"The club ... an attack. My dear, this is not a happy cup ..."

"I thought that was a bowler hat," said Ron.

"Who needs their inner eye tested, now," said Liam. Ron hit him on the shoulder, but a grin formed on his face.

"The skull … danger in your path, dear me …"

A silence drew. Everyone stared at Professor Trelawney, eager to know what was next. Professor Trelawney turned the cup once more, then screamed, nearly dropping it.

Professor Trelawney pushed past Neville, who fumbled to keep his cup in his hand and eventually dropped it. Professor Trelawney sunk into one of the armchairs, her hand at her heart and her eyes closed.

"My dear boy … my poor, dear boy … no … it is kinder not to say … no … don't ask me …"

"What is it, Professor? What's wrong?" asked Dean Thomas. He was the first one at the table at which Harry, Liam and Ron sat at. Everyone around them leaned in, forming a tight circle around Professor Trelawney, all trying to see into Harry's cup.

"My dear," Professor Trelawney's huge eyes opened dramatically, "you have the Grim."

"The what?" said Harry.

He knew that he wasn't the only one who didn't understand; Dean Thomas shrugged at him and Lavender Brown looked puzzled. Nearly everyone else clapped their hands to their mouths in horror and backed away. The one person that shocked him the most was Liam, who made it quite clear to Harry that he was trying to make himself invisible to the whole situation.

"The Grim, my dear, the Grim!" cried Professor Trelawney, who looked shocked that Harry hadn't understood. "The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear boy, it is an omen — the worst omen — of death!"

Harry's stomach lurched. He had remembered seeing a dog in the shadows of Magnolia Crescent the day he'd run away ... and the old shopkeeper at Flourish and Blotts pointed Harry away from the Death Omens book, the one that had a dog on the cover. Harry now saw that more people had clapped their hands to their mouths, Lavender Brown made sure to make it evident. The next thing he'd realised was that Hermione had walked behind Professor Trelawney's chair, peering into the cup.

"I don't think it looks like a Grim," she said flatly.

There was something in Professor Trelawney's expression that told them she didn't like Hermione very much.

"You'll forgive me for saying so, my dear, but I perceive very little aura around you. Very little receptivity to the resonances of the future."

Seamus Finnigan was tilting his head from side to side, and Tessa drew herself behind Hermione, climbing on her toes to see over her shoulder and into the cup.

"She's not wrong," said Tessa, her eyes never leaving the bottom of the teacup. "It _doesn't_ look like a Grim."

"It does if you look at it this way," said Seamus, his head cocked to one side. "Otherwise it looks like a donkey."

"Right, so if we're all done figuring out whether I'm going to die or not ..." Harry had said it even as a shocked to himself, and after that, no one dared to look at him. All except Liam, who didn't seem to notice the fact that he was staring at him.

"I think it would be rather wise to end the lesson off on that note," said Professor Trelawney, her hand still at her heart and she didn't stand from the armchair. "Mr Potter ... don't you mind the ... the grim news, dear child ... just ... beware."


	6. History's Twist

CHAPTER FIVE

History's Twist

"Merlin, something has gotten you all in a twist!" said Professor McDonald. Her brows were narrowed; she couldn't believe this.

Professor McGonagall and Professor McDonald introduced a subject they were obviously both very excited about, but the Gryffindor house showed no enthusiasm at all. In fact, they seemed to think that Harry was a more interesting subject than what McGonagall and McDonald had to say. So far they'd gone through half the lesson talking about Animagi, which were wizards who could transform into animals at their own will. Barely anyone watched as Professor McGonagall had transformed herself into a tabby cat with spectacle markings around her eyes, nor had they realised Professor McDonald turned herself into a large, magnificent hawk that had been sitting on a perch nearby.

"What's the matter?" asked McGonagall. "Not that it matters, but this is truly the first time our transformations have ever gone without an applause from a class."

"Apologies, Professor," said Tessa, "but we've just had our first Divination class. We're on the tea leaves topic, you see, and, well ––"

"Of course," said Professor McGonagall, frowning. She looked across to her colleague, whose face almost mirrored her's. "There is no need to say anymore, Miss Williams. Do tell us, which one of you will be dying this year?"

Everyone stared at her.

"Me," said Harry, softly.

"Ah, I see," said Professor McGonagall. "You should not worry, Potter, Sybil Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year since she arrived at her post at the school. None have died yet. Death omens happen to be her way of greeting the new class. If it were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues — Divination is one of the most imprecise branches of magic. I shall not conceal from you that I have very little patience with it. True Seers are very rare, and Professor Trelawney ––"

"Well, Potter, we see that you're in fine health, so you will excuse us if we don't let you off homework today. I assure you that if you die, you need not hand it in," said Professor McDonald.

Hermione laughed (a sight Liam thought could never happen). Tessa had grinned and Harry felt a lot better. This had made him feel more confident. How could he be scared of what a lump of tea said. In any fact, he supposed anyone would perceive anything through the dim red light and the thick perfume of Professor Trelawney's classroom. It hadn't appeared as though everyone had been convinced though. Ron still looked weary and Lavender was puzzled.

Liam, on the other hand, smiled and whispered into Harry's ear, "D'you want me to assure them that I'll hand it in, should you feel the sudden urge to 'kick the bucket'?"

The two of them snickered amongst each other, passing it off as a late reaction to Professor McDonald's joke before.

Transfiguration had been done before they knew it, and they all joined the crowd filing into the Great Hall for lunch.

As they seated themselves, Liam had tapped the table three times and was greeted by a large silver tray with potions of different colours placed in it. He frowned.

"Mum said once the potions were over, I'd be done with them," said Liam, holding up a dark red vile that looked oddly enough like blood. "I have to suffer through more of the Tago potion."

He screwed up his face and placed the Tago potion back, then opened the cap of a purplish-greenish potion and gulped a capful down. It had been a while before he reached the blue potion Harry knew Liam liked least, beside the Tago potion.

"The Byrrus Potion?" asked Tessa, narrowing her eyebrows at the vile in Liam's hand. "Why do you need the Byrrus Potion?"

"If I only knew," said Liam. He surveyed the cap full of the blue liquid with the same mask of disgust he had on the first time Harry saw him take it. Harry could see something stir in his eyes, as if he were contemplating getting away with not drinking the potion. "Forgive me, dear tastebuds." and he gulped the thing down. The rest were watching in anticipation, and Liam gagged, then cupped his mouth with his hand, burping through his fingers. He went a little green, but had removed his hand a second later and breathed heavily, looking menacingly at the blood red vile.

"Onto Tago, cousin," said Harry, clapping Liam's shoulder.

"Onto Tago," he agreed, softly, picking the red vile up and repeating the process, this time he screwed up his face and looked on the verge of tearing up. "I think this might be stronger than before," he said, timidly.

"What's the matter, Ron?" asked Tessa, looking at the sullen Ron who sat next to Harry.

"Harry," said Ron, "you haven't _seen_ a great black dog, have you?"

"What does it matter?" asked Tessa. "You heard what McGonagall and McDonald said."

"Have you?" Ron pressed.

"Yeah, I have," said Harry, he hadn't noticed that Liam suddenly tuned in on Harry, forgetting the last of his potions.

"You mean on that Death Omens book at Flourish and Blotts?" asked Liam, hopefully.

"No, at the Dursleys when I ran away," said Harry.

Ron let his fork fall with a clatter, and Liam tapped the table four times so that the tray would disappear.

"You didn't finish all your potions," said Hermione.

"I had one left, what does it matter?" sneered Liam. He turned his head to Harry. "So, wait, you actually _saw_ the dog?"

"It was probably a stray!" said Hermione.

Ron looked at Hermione as though she had gone mad.

"Hermione, if Harry's seen a Grim, that's — that's bad," he said. "My — my uncle Bilius saw one and — and he died twenty-four hours later!"

"Coincidence," said Hermione, pouring herself pumpkin juice.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" said Ron, starting to get angry. "Grims scare the living daylights out of most wizards!"

"There you are, then," said Hermione in a superior tone. "They see the Grim and die of fright. The Grim's not an omen, it's the cause of death! And Harry's still with us because he's not stupid enough to see one and think, right, well, I'd better kick the bucket then!"

"Right, then," said Tessa, pulling out her schedule, which had already been colour-coded by lessons, and lay it on the table. "We have History of Magic afterwards, then Care of Magical Creatures. I wonder what Professor Von Seiler and Professor Binns have for us. Perhaps something around the history of Hogsmeade. I would really like to dig in deeper on the Goblin Rebellion, wouldn't you, Hermione?"

"Oh, yes!" said Hermione gleefully. Harry turned to look at Liam, who seemed uncomfortable at the fact that Hermione could actually smile and laugh. He seemed to find it more fitting when her smile dropped. "Don't you think Divination was very wooly."

Tessa opened her mouth to speak, but Ron had spoke up quicker.

"Wooly?" he said. "Nothing's woolly about the grim in that cup!"

"You didn't seem so confident when you were telling Harry it was a sheep," said Hermione.

Liam snickered.

Both Ron and Hermione looked at him, Hermione a bit confused.

"What?" he asked, looking between the two of them. "It was funny. Woolly ... sheep happen to wear wool ... besides, it just refers back to my point on getting your inner eye tested."

"You just made this worse," whispered Harry.

"Kinda figured," whispered Liam back.

Hermione rolled her eyes, like she always did with him, and then went back to looking at Ron, who had said, "Professor Trelawney said you didn't have the right aura. You just don't like not being good at everything."

 _BANG!_

Hermione was on her feet, her hands flat on the table. She banged it so hard that bits of meat and carrot flew everywhere.

"Granger, why don't you sit down?" asked Liam, who was a few inches away from the table now. "I'd like to eat my lunch without it flying at me."

"If being good at Divination means I have to pretend to see death omens in a lump of tea leaves, I'm not sure I'll be studying it much longer! That lesson was absolute rubbish compared with my Arithmancy class."

She scooped up her bag and stalked off.

"Well ... _that_ happened ..." said Liam.

"Arithmancy?" asked Ron. "What's she talking about, she hasn't even gone to Arithmancy yet."

Harry and Liam saw that point, the Arithmancy class had been at the same time of the Divination class, as Ron so openly stated earlier on. The three of them then looked at Tessa, knowing she would know considering Hermione and her had the same classes. But Tessa looked at them awkwardly, got up, slung her bag over her shoulder and walked away.

Harry and Liam were dreading the fact that they had History of Magic with the Slytherins. Malfoy and the McElroy twins made sure to catch Harry's attention, once again mocking him by pretending to be dementors. For Liam, they added an extra screwed up nose, but he did not seem to acknowledge their arrival. However, Harry saw that he slightly shook his head, and his eyes had a sort of revengeful look in them. _If I get my hands on them,_ Harry imagined he was thinking something on the lines of that. He chose to ignore them and got out his books like the rest of the class. Harry was quite eager to know what was under the silky, black cloth on the table.

"What d'you suppose that is?" Ron asked Harry.

"No idea," Harry said.

"Stow away your books," said the very shallow but peppy voice of Professor Victor Von Seiler, who had worn robes along the lines of a Victorian war suit. He had walked with such pace that it nearly seemed as though he had used his vampiric abilities to get to the front of the class. His silky brown hair had been combed back, and his sparkly, auburn eyes were gleaming with a special type of joy, which only meant one thing: the lesson was going to be interesting. Von Seiler had both the ability to bore you to death or keep you in tune till the very last second of the lesson, and the students could tell when it was going to be exciting or not simply through the gleam in his eyes. "Tune your eyes and ears on me, let not they be distracted by anything else although, I think my outfit might throw you off a bit. Forgive me, I was indulging myself to some Muggle history. Fascinating stuff. I have a surprise for you all –– yes, Miss Granger."

He said it with such a booming enthusiasm that it slightly startled Hermione, who had her hand up.

"Just a question," said Hermione, "shouldn't we wait for Professor Binns?"

"Oh, Cuthbert won't be in, today," said Professor Von Seiler. Hermione was baffled. "Oh, don't look so worried, he's fine. He's just dealing with a situation, currently, and won't be in until the complications have been resolved."

"Better that way," said Harry in Liam's ear. "He won't bore us to death."

"Won't call us the wrong names, either, hey Hartley Pattinson?" snickered Liam.

"Why yes, I do believe so, Wilfried Carter," laughed Harry.

"Harald Porker."

"Larry Crane."

"Hank Parker."

"Louis Cambridge."

"Be quiet, you two!" snapped Tessa from next to them.

"All right, we will," said Liam back, then he leaned in and whispered to her, "Tilly Wilkinson."

She was smiling, Harry could see that, but she rolled her eyes and looked back at Von Seiler.

"Any more questions, Miss Granger?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head.

"All right, now," said Von Seiler. "Remember last year we covered the four founders of Hogwarts School as well as their greatest companions? Who remembers who they were?"

Not many hands went up. There were about three, one of which was Neville's, the other Hermione's and the last Tessa's. Harry and Liam both knew the names of the companions, they just didn't bother to put their hands up.

"Oh, come on. I'm sure Professor Binns and I explained it quite clearly to every house. How come only three can remember?" asked Von Seiler. No one replied, but Hermione and Tessa both seemed to be competing against each other to catch his attention. "Very well, ten points to each of these bright sparks. Could you answer our question, Mr Longbottom? Who were the four companions of our four founders?"

Hermione and Tessa both looked a little upset that neither of them were picked.

"Rowena Ravenclaw had Wilma Wolfhowl as a companion who supported her beliefs in accepting only the bright-minded. Bethany Blinderbowl supported Helga Hufflepuff's beliefs of accepting the loyal-natured. Godric Gryffindor had his cousin as a companion, Phelix Phoenixdan, who supported his beliefs in accepting only the brave-hearted. Salazar Slytherin believed the cunning should be accepted, and he was supported by his childhood friend, Sargas Scorpiosting."

"Very well done, Mr Longbottom. Considering your rich history of forgetting things, I think I should reward that with another ten points," said Professor Von Seiler with a very wide smile. Neville had blushed.

"Forty points in the space of ten minutes," said Ron, amazed.

"Score," said Liam.

"Yes, as Mr Longbottom pointed out, every one of our founders were supported in their beliefs by their companions. And they were very devoted in their beliefs. Each one of them different, yes, but all moulded together to create what has been envisioned today as Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Professor Von Seiler had a wide smile on, his teeth glistening bright. "Now, as we are all hopefully aware of, Salazar Slytherin held a great monster deep inside the Chamber of Secrets, or so it has been rumoured. Recently, the rumour had stated out that the monster had been a basilisk. A great big snake with the ability to kill you literally with the blink of an eye.

"Now, I'm sure Professor Binns and I had once told you that the Chamber of Secrets had basically become Slytherin's second home. Sargas Scorpiosting, as his devoted companion, I think we can agree on, supported his whole idea of the Chamber, and what he had planned to do with all the Muggle-born students studying here. When the plan failed, and the Chamber of Secrets seized to exist, Scorpiosting went out of his way and took it upon himself to remake what Slytherin did.

"Let's look at the background, shall we? Mr Longbottom had mentioned that Scorpiosting had been Slytherin's longest friend. They had been together since childhood, and still had those beliefs even then, and believe me when I say the Scorpiosting and Slytherin families were very rowdy indeed. Rowdy and boastful over their superiority over the Muggles and the half-bloods that resided in the area. Of course, they never liked to admit that they had been living near Muggles and half-bloods, but they couldn't do much but rule over them, so that's what they did.

"Now, Scorpiosting was infatuated with scorpions, hence the name Scorpiosting. The family in general had an uncanny love for the unpleasant terrestrial arachnids. He did experiments on them, trying to find many other darker uses for scorpion venom. He had later created a chest to conceal all his works and discoveries."

He had looked around the class. Many eyes and ears were tuned, even Harry, Liam and Ron were listening. Hermione and Tessa both sat up straight. They looked at Von Seiler with a fazed expression, focussing only on him and the roll of parchment they were writing notes on. Most of the Slytherin house either appeared bored, or insulted that Von Seiler was practically calling them boastful, dark wizards –– or the house, at least –– but none of them seemed the least bit interested.

"Glad to see I at least have the Gryffindor house interested," said Von Seiler, however he was not looking at the Gryffindor students, nor had there been a smile on his face. "I would at least appreciate it if you weren't sleeping, Mr Nott, Mr McElroy. Do get some more rest during the night, boys, especially towards the end of the year. Sleeping during the examinations would be a dreadful turnout."

Many students turned around to see Adrian McElroy snoring into his hand. His sister and Malfoy were shaking him up. Near them had been a blonde boy who had his head dangling loosely. Two other boys had shaken him up as well.

"Now, I'm sure you all know who Thomas Clark is," said Von Seiler. Harry and Liam whipped their heads back and narrowed their eyebrows. "He's widely known around the Wizarding World, internationally, even. Him and his wife, that is. He also happens to be the father and uncle of our very own William Clark and Harry Potter."

Suddenly his eyes were on them. They were still rather confused about how Mr Clark tied in with Sargas Scorpiosting.

"Thomas Clark has been working on something over the holidays. A Muggle friend of his came over, one day, and gave him a pure gold chest," said Professor Von Seiler. He clutched the silky black cloth, his wide smile back. "This chest has been kept well, I must say. It was found in the middle of the ocean."

Professor Von Seiler had pulled the cloth, revealing a golden chest with a large padlock dangling from the middle. From it sprouted six chains that had webbed around it. The bottom of the chest had been beaded with emerald jewels and in the middle, just under the padlock, had been a circular symbol of a scorpion with the words **SANG PLUS PUR** rimmed around it. When Von Seiler said it was in good condition, he obviously meant the chest itself, and probably the padlock. What he failed to mention was that just where the chest would open was where a crystallised, black substance had sealed.

"This, I do believe, is Sargas Scorpiosting's original Scorpion Chest," said Professor Von Seiler. There was something odd about the substance. It looked nearly liquidised, as if it were about to ooze down the shimmering chest like blood. "Thomas Clark has been trying his best to open it, but it cannot. Yes, Miss Williams?"

"How do we know that the chest cannot be opened?" asked Tessa.

"You mean apart from the tale? The Roman readings taken from Vespasian's Colosseum and Apollodorus's Pantheon. Sargas Scorpiosting never liked to be very open about his discoveries, but he left a clue to which he said 'only a pure Slytherin or Scorpiosting will be able to solve the clue', which obviously turned out to be wrong because Mr Clark managed to crack the code to know that the readings in Rome will tell him all the secrets of the Scorpion Chest. On his trip he met the fact that the chest could not be opened."

"But why?" asked Hermione.

"That, Miss Granger, brings us to the tale," said Professor Von Seiler. "How many of you have read up on Bathilda Bagshot's corrected edition of _Hogwarts: A History?"_

This time only Hermione and Tessa put their hands up. Again, a slightly disappointed expression eclipsed Professor Von Seiler's face.

"Well, in there she mentions that Sargas Scorpiosting was rather mad. She said, and I quote, _'Sargas Scorpiosting was a madman, madder than any witch or wizard that has endured insanity through the jail bars of Azkaban Prison',_ and she wasn't wrong on that. Scorpiosting was very mad. Some would even go as far as calling him insane. I told you that he did experiments on scorpions. Those experiments drove him to the edge of his insanity. Some even thought he may have been sick from a looming and eery illness that played with your mind.

"At some stage of his life, Scorpiosting lost control over himself. His companionship with Slytherin had been long terminated. Slytherin had left his position as Head of the house and Scorpiosting, as insane as he was, manipulated the others into forcing him to take up the place. There was a rumour, once, that he had taken a Muggle-born student and fed her to his rather large pet scorpion, which he mutated, by the way, and created a whole new species that had since been extinct –– Miss Granger, if your question was 'what was the species known as?' the answer would be Nepascorpio."

Hermione and Tessa were frantically writing this down on their roll of parchment.

"The elven discoveries of constellations referred to Scorpius as 'Nepa' or 'Nepas' instead of the original name. They also said the constellation shun brightest in the Southernmost country of Africa, and, considering Scorpiosting's monster scorpion was African-bred, he named the breed he mustered Nepascorpio," said Von Seiler, looking at Hermione and Tessa. "But this is all NEWT level Divination, dears, you need not worry about it at this stage.

"Anyway, let's get off that note. Scorpiosting had this absurd idea that carrying out his experiments on his scorpions and his Nepascorpio would eventually mean that he could extinguish every 'impure' wizard and witch. His madness drove him to stabbing himself with the stinger of the Nepascorpio, believing that it would grant him with such a powerful ability to carry out his intention. But since it was poison, and he was merely a mortal, the mutated sting affected him gravely. However, he managed to maintain the effects by use of different potions, but not even that prevented the illness he had later endured.

"He had gotten a sickness that is unknown even today. The only other known person who had fallen sick with the same illness was Scorpiosting's nephew. I'd like to think that it was because he like to play around with the Nepascorpio as it grew," said Von Seiler. "Scorpiosting had eventually figured out that the Nepascorpio poison was what had caused his sickness, and knew that the only way to get rid of it was to draw his own blood. It worked, for a while. Then he got sick again.

"Some of his notes were salvaged. It had clearly stated that he had thought he had a second him. His own self-conscious had manipulated him into drawing out more and more of his blood until the poison was gone, in the meantime doing so, he locked his works in his chest with a blood seal. Now, the salvaged notes also stated that the Nepascorpio venom was dark purple in colour, but once conjoined with his blood, it had become completely black. When leaving the blood seal on his chest, he made sure the only person that would be able to open it was an heir of Slytherin or Scorpiosting themselves.

"Now, the curious thing about this is that blood seals lift when the person has died. What you see around the chest here," Von Seiler had run his fingers along the black, crystallised substance, "is Scorpiosting's contaminated blood. This particular blood seal has intrigued many wizarding historians. The fact that it has not yet lifted makes us question the power Scorpiosting acquired through his stages of insanity."

"Curious ..." Hermione said suddenly. It didn't seem as though she noticed she had said anything, and had blushed when Von Seiler had answered her.

"Curious indeed, Miss Granger."

The bell hummed from the distance and the students rose from their seats.

"I would like you all to list five uses of scorpion venom for homework," Professor Von Seiler yelled over the bustle, his enthusiasm about the subject still quite evident. "Remember, this is an individual task and I shall know should you copy off of a friend's. Crack open the books, it's a history lesson after all."

They had just completed their first ever Care of Magical Creatures lesson. Hagrid and Dreagon introduced them to Buckbeak the Hippogriff. Hippogriffs were strange creatures, with the body and legs of a horse but the wings and head of an eagle. Harry volunteered to touch the thing, much to Liam's anxiety. Throughout the entire thing, Hermione noticed one thing about Liam: his hand was rapidly tapping against his thigh, and the speed only increased when Buckbeak nearly snapped Harry's head off. A habit, maybe?

Although Liam was scared about what might happen to Harry, they both thought that the lesson was far better than being pronounce soon to die in a heavily perfumed classroom. They thought the lesson was not bad at all, but the Slytherins seemed to think differently. Draco had been scratched during the lesson and Hagrid had to run off to the hospital wing whilst Dreagon put Buckbeak back in the paddocks.

"Those two were by far the worst!" spat Dmitri McElroy as they were walking back up to the castle.

"They should be fired!" yelled Pansy Parkinson.

"Fired?" piped up Liam. Honestly, he'd had enough of this bad-mouthing babbling that he decided to act. "Malfoy got scratched, so what? I've seen a lot worse." And he had. He'd seen, at first hand, the basilisk's fangs sinking deep into Harry's arm. He'd seen enough of Ginny Weasley's lifeless figure on the floor of the Chamber of Secrets to know what worse looked like.

"Worse, you say," came Adrian McElroy's voice. He stepped in front of Liam, blocking his path up to the castle. Then the Slytherin students closed in on him and the rest of the Gryffindors. His sister and Pansy Parkinson were close behind him. "By that do you mean your little incident with Minister Ronan Droge?"

Harry turned to Liam, unsure of what Adrian meant. He hadn't heard of Ronan Droge before, and if he had, his name wasn't one that came up often. Liam's face had gone red. For a moment Harry thought it would've gone as red as his nose was the day before. His revengeful eyes came back, and Harry feared that he might actually have the _if I get my hands on them_ thought fresh in his mind.

"He isn't Minister!" growled Liam through gritted teeth.

"Anymore," sneered Adrian. "Just imagine if the odds were the other way around, then you wouldn't be here and Droge would have still been Minister."

"He would've been fired!" spat Tessa suddenly. She had the same revengeful look in her eyes and her face was just as red. "It's not like he tried to keep the whole thing discreet! He'd done it in front of everyone. If he lived, he would have been thrown in Azkaban!"

Harry looked around the group. Half of them, Slytherin and Gryffindor, had been completely confused. The other half had different expressions on. Some Slytherin's were snickering and scowling at Liam, other's showed no emotion at all. But all the Gryffindors who understood the conversation all looked angry.

"That's not what my dad said," said Adrian. "He would have been taken as confused ... forced to do it by one of his colleagues he didn't really get along with ... under a charm."

"I'm sure you wouldn't've liked it if someone as mad as Ronan Droge tried to kill you in front of everyone, McElroy!" yelled a voice from behind them. They all looked back at a boy standing in between Seamus Finnigan and a tall, curly-haired boy. He had umber, dark yellow-brown skin. Harry realised him as one of the boys in the dorm next door. "So why don't you shut your mouth and get out of the way so that we could get into the castle!"

Adrian glared at the boy, scoffed and turned towards the Slytherins, who all started to file into the castle. The boy who spoke up for Liam passed them, but Liam made sure he wasn't too far out of sight when he said, "Thanks, Beck."

The boy smiled, nodded and then turned to talk to the tall blonde boy walking beside him.

"Who's he?" asked Harry.

"Beck Lavery," said Liam. "Gryffindor, obviously. He's got a cousin in Hufflepuff. Logan Lavery. He probably spoke up because Ronan Droge haunted him, too. His father was nearly sacked from his job because Droge framed him for smuggling in illegal goods from other countries. Turned out to be a lie –– like Droge –– everything about him was a lie!"

"What's up with this Droge fellow, anyway?" asked Ron.

"I'd –– I'd rather not talk about it," said Liam, "not now, anyway."

Without saying another word, Liam followed the crowd into the castle. Harry looked at Tessa for a second, then followed after. They had resumed talking about how their Care of Magical Creatures lesson went, but Harry detected a very nervous manner in the way Liam spoke. Harry made the effort to look around at the rest; Tessa looked very anxious and Hermione had an odd expression on, as though she was trying to look sympathetic but found it extremely difficult. Ron had been the only one who found nothing wrong.

They arrived at the Gryffindor common room and Harry pulled Liam back after stepping through the common room door.

"What's wrong?" asked Harry.

"Nothing," said Liam. He turned away. "Ooh, look! Ayers and Quidditch practice will be starting soon. Must be trying to start early to ensure the cup, hey?" He still sounded nervous, but a little more chirpy. He strutted towards the notice board and scanned the timetable. "Next week Wednesday at four o'clock. How're they gonna split the two sports if they're both at the same time?"

"We're splitting the field, Junior," said a peppy voice behind them. Harry turned to meet with a tall boy with short, blonde hair and a very pointy nose. "Wood's rounding them all up in the air. Chasers're gonna try shoot past him, him being Keeper and all. Beaters're gonna be a guard for the Chasers."

"Sorry? Wood?" asked Liam.

"Oliver Wood," said the tall boy. "Gryffindor Keeper and Captain for the Quidditch team. Little like me, except I'm not Keeper and he's not blonde."

"What position do you play?" asked Harry out of curiosity.

"Base Shooter," said the boy. His eyebrows raised when he saw the confusion on Harry's face. "Didn't your knucklehead cousin tell you anything about Ayers?" Harry thought it best not to answer. "It's simple, really. There're twelve players, not like Quidditch. Two of them are shooters, otherwise known as your cousin and I. Your cousin, the Runner Shooter, has to shoot through the hoops with the ball called the Runner. Obvious, right? It's about the size of a Plunker."

Harry narrowed his eyebrows and looked at Liam.

"Hockey ball," he said blankly.

"That's what the Muggle's call it," said the tall boy. "The ball's called the Runner because it runs. Throw it, it'll try it's best to sneak away from the goals. Figuratively speaking, I mean, the ball was built to redirect itself once thrown at the right velocity. And you have to throw that thing bloody hard if you want to get a good goal, otherwise the ball sinks as though it were nothing but a mound of steel. That I meant literally. Some say it's harder than even the Beaters — equivalent to Bludgers if we were talking Quidditch — but I wouldn't know that. _I've_ never been hit by one in my six years of playing. Your cousin on the other hand ..."

"To say being hit by a Runner is painful is way to much of an understatement. I was sitting up in the Hospital Wing for a week after and my bone still hadn't healed properly. They eventually had to use some Skelo-Gro thing on me," said Liam. He opened his mouth to say more, but nothing but a fazed expression fell upon his face. Then he snapped back. "The reason I hate the Hospital Wing so much is because I've been there way too many times to count. The match after I was hit by a Beater. If you thought being hit by a Runner was bad, wait until you meet the Beater. I was concussed for a month, and the bloody thing hit me on my _arm_. It was floppy and boneless when I woke up, not like how Lockhart removed your bone, my bones were just shattered and all over the place. Mum and dad had to put me to sleep every time I woke. Some heavy sleeping potion or something."

"Your cousin holds the record of the most Ayers injuries in wizarding history," said the boy. "Literally. He managed to visit the Hospital Wing ten times every two months from broken bones, concussions, dislocated every things ... at some point we just didn't count anyone. When news went around that Liam Clark was in the Hospital Wing again, we just knew he'd be there for at least a month. Two, tops. Good thing he had Tessa Williams as a friend. She'd write him notes whenever he'd be too unconscious to write them, despite him being Scorpiosting — Slytherin. The only one he had until he'd purposely lost a match to Gryffindor. It was Phoenixdan then, but who cares. By then, Callum Thompson decided it'd be a good idea to befriend the Boy Who Lived. One of them, anyway.

"Anyway, back to Ayers. Where were we? Oh, right. Beaters. Beaters are like Bludgers. Their aim is to beat the hell out of you while you play. Three a match, about the size of a — what do the Muggles call them?" the boy asked Liam.

"Volley ball," said Liam, then he said in a tone that made Harry know he was joking. "I would know first hand."

Harry fought the urge to laugh, then tuned his head to the tall boy near Liam.

"Beaters are hit around by Batters, name's not a big shocker. The players meant to hit the balls away are called Batters. They're four of those to even the numbers out. The hit of the Beaters is equivalent to four Batters. Of course, there's me, the Base Runner. The Base is the ball I try to score with. It's about as big as a —"

"Football," said Liam, but then he lost himself in thought. He was thinking. "Little smaller than a football. I wouldn't know much, I'm not allowed to score with that ball so I refrain from using it cause when a ball gets into my hand, I usually throw it toward the goals. Dad does say I work on impulse rather than instinct. But if I realise it's a Base, then I work as a Fielder."

"Right, the Fielders. They are the people who pass around the Base to the Base Shooter, and occasionally the Runner to the Runner Shooter — if they're fast enough to catch it, that is," said the boy. "Fielders aren't allowed to score anything. If they do, it counts for a penalty. And trust me when I say, teams get desperate when they're a couple points down. 'Specially those cruddy Slytherins! They have a long history of getting penalties like that.

"Anyway. Rules are, the only person allowed to score with the Runner is the Runner shooter himself, and the only person allowed to score with the Base is the Base Runner. Like in Quidditch, the Batters can not intend to hit a Beater towards a player, specifically in the opposing team. Players may not throw neither Base nor Runner at a person in intent to injure them. No player can purposefully bump into another player to knock him off guard, and it's pretty damn hard to regain balance on flying shoes, especially when he or she has the ball. Players may not use any vulgar language, neither in body nor verbally, toward another player.

"Here's how the points work. There're three posts with really cheesy names. The shortest post is called the Minnie. You can't imagine how many jokes were made about that. Think on the lines of "If you can't shoot through the Minnie, your shorter than a gnome" ... anyway, because the Runner literally runs, it's worth more points ... except for the Minnie. It is the only post the Runner and the Base are worth the same points. If you score the Minnie it's worth fifty points. The middlemost post is called the Medio — no joke (he said when Harry had dismally failed in refraining from laughing). It's literally simple Dwarvish. Anyway, if you score a Medio with a Base, it's worth fifty points, with the Runner, it's a hundred. Now the tallest post you'd have to be crazy to fly to. Frickin' high above the clouds. I, myself, have not seen it yet. I don't think anyone in this Hogwarts generation has actually seen it. It's call the Soarer.

"Now, because it is so tall that you can't even see it — literally — it's worth a hella lot of points. If you score a Soarer with the Base, two hundred. With a Runner, five fifty. Your cousin was once stupid enough to go for it, that's how he purposely lost to Gryffindor."

"Did you know?" asked Harry, looking at Liam.

"Did I know I could probably die? Yes. Nearly did," said Liam. "That's the two month period I was in the Hospital Wing for. They had to thaw, revive at mend a broken boned concussion all in a frozen body. I didn't even reach the bloody thing and I froze. That's just saying something."

Harry was lost for words. He was surprised his cousin would have attempted something like that, more was he surprised at the fact that the Soarer post was so high you'd freeze on your way there. He wished he wouldn't see the day of the poor wizard who would attempt something so suicidal, especially during winter when the air on ground is too thin to breath.

"Has anyone ever scored a — err — scored a Soarer?" asked Harry.

"Many in the olden days, but their immune system worked differently," the boy laughed. Harry felt awkward because he did not join, but an uplifting feeling sprouted from the depths of all that when he saw Liam's puzzled expressions. "Sorry, about that. I get a little carried away. Anyway, there have only been two people who have ever done it in this age. One of them was a student at Hogwarts, or rumoured anyway. No one knows his name. The second was the English International Runner Shooter, Peter Plaise."

"He plays for the Whisking Woodpeckers," said Liam, blankly. "With John Becker out from a popped knee, and Annie Hartley out for a family issue, they were left with their substitute Keeper and Fielder, who both happened to suck. Their opponents happened to be at the bottom of the League at the time, the Dashed Chargers. Any team with a name like that, no wonder why, hey? Plaise was desperate, so he got the Runner, sped up the post and shot. No one saw him. Moments later he had fallen to the ground frozen solid."

"How d'you know when someone scores a Soarer?" asked Harry. The terminology "scored a Soarer or Medio or Minnie" was new to Harry, but he chose to get used to it if he ever wanted to have a quick sporty conversation with his cousin.

"The scoreboard," said the boy. "It has some ancient magical property to help detect when someone's scored a Soarer. Here's another reason why Quidditch and Ayers are different. Ayers is timed. Ninety minutes a match. That is, however, unless you've managed to score a Soarer, in which case the team is awarded a good five fifty points and the match is ended immediately. This is partially done so that the unlucky chap who made the trip anyway could be rushed off to a hospital."

Harry nodded. This sport seemed quite interesting and he wanted to be there the next time Liam would play.

"It's a surprise your cousin didn't tell you about Ayers, considering how competitive he can get. Best Runner Shooter to hit Hogwarts since the 1970s, according to my dad. You wouldn't believe him until he told you that the best then was a Clark, too, 'xcept he didn't play Runner Shooter, he played Base. Come to think of it, I think he said Potter was the Runner."

"My _dad_ played Ayers?" as far as Harry knew his father played Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"Oh yeah. My dad went on about it. Initially the rule is that you can't play both sports, but James Potter and Tommy Clark seemed to best the rules — Breeanne Shacklebolt found a way too, but she's in third year so ... Anyway, it was James Potter, Captain and Chaser of the Gryffindor Quidditch team and Runner on the Gryffindor Ayers team. Thomas Clark, Captain and Base of the Ayers team and Seeker of the Quidditch team."

"My uncle was Seeker?" asked Harry.

"My dad said Potter and Clark always had a plan for both sports, and it would ensure Gryffindor won even if they seemed to be losing at first. He tried to figure out what it was but never could. He always said it appeared as those Clark would only get the Snitch if Potter scored enough goals. He couldn't pinpoint the exact play. Anyway, he left school before their sixth year, so he couldn't do much more from there.

"My name's James Clogg, if you were wondering," said the tall boy. "I also happen to know anything and everything Wood'll know about the sports department, so if you need anything, come to either of us. Even if it's about Quidditch." He was looking at Harry, a certain gleam in his eyes. "One more note: we're not accepting slackers this year. Gryffindor needs to win the cup, Ayers and Quidditch. It's Wood and my last year, so we're going to make the best of it. 'Member, four o'clock Wednesday afternoon. We're already running short on time because practice was supposed to start Monday, but we thought you'd all need a longer break. Four o'clock, Don't be late."


	7. Boggarts and Shadows

CHAPTER SIX

Boggarts and Shadows

"Sirius Black's been sighted!" Beck Lavery, the boy in which Harry wondered about days before, and his tall friend sped his way to the armchairs and slammed a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ on the table.

"What're you on about?" asked Liam, following behind him. Harry, Ron and him gathered around, peering over his shoulder. Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas and Neville Longbottom came around to crowd him, too.

"The Ministry! They reckon Black's been spotted!" said Beck.

"What are you talking about?" asked Liam, and he leaned in closer, his eyes racing across the article.

"A Muggle saw him?" asked Ron, pulling the paper out from under Beck's hand "Said she called the hot line. By the time the Ministry came, Black was gone."

"Boy, if those Muggles actually knew who Black really was ..." said Beck. "The Muggles just think he's a normal criminal, right? Running around with a ... what's that thing they have called, Simon."

The tall, blonde boy — Simon — who stood behind Ron trying to read the article, had glanced up at Beck and said, "A gun."

"A silver wand, they said," said Beck. "Dunno how it works."

"It's a Muggle weapon intended to kill. A device with a metal tube through which bullets or other missiles are fired," said Liam. "It's nothing like a wand. The only similarity is that they both shoot something. It doesn't even look like a wand, I dunno how they thought it was the same."

"It shoots something that kills. If you put that with Sirius Black, I'm sure they would have thought it was anything," said Beck. Then, suddenly, he turned to Harry with a smile and his arm outstretched. "Hi, Beck Lavery. Him over there," he pointed at Simon, his tall friend, "he's Simon Faulkner."

He shook his hand and Beck's face seemed to light up.

"Neat. Now I've met both the Boys Who Lived," said Beck, and he smiled at Liam, too.

"Have you finished Von Seiler's homework, Beck?" Liam asked, walking to collect his bag, which was lying against the leg of one of the armchairs.

"What homework?" Simon craned his long neck towards Liam, who had a cheeky grin on.

"Five uses of scorpion venom ... Von Seiler gave it to us three days ago," said Liam. "It took me five minutes to find ten."

"I didn't do it," said Simon, his cheeks going rosy red.

"Typical," Beck said. "Simon's the sporty type. He'll remember every single Whisking Woodpeckers match from last year till the next Warrior World Cup, as well as when Peter Plaise will have his next interview with the _Daily Prophet_ but he can't even remember what lessons he had the previous day. But, I'm not complaining. He's the best Fielder in the Ayers team."

"I don't suppose you've done it either, Beck?" asked Seamus Finnigan, smiling.

"Anyone who knows me will know the answer to that," said Beck, a cheeky grin on. "Of course, I always have a plan to get it done before the lesson ..." he resided to Liam, who was ensuring he had his quill and ink. "Can I copy off yours."

Liam pulled out a roll of parchment and handed it to Beck.

"Choose only five at random," said Liam. "Von Seiler said he'd know if we copied off of each other."

"You're a lifesaver," said Beck with the parchment in hand. Simon, his tall friend, followed after him as he sat at a table. Seamus looked at Dean and then the two of them both sped off after them, all sharing the little piece of parchment on the table.

"I guess they all forgot," said Liam.

"I'm surprised you didn't," said Hermione. She and Tessa walked passed them.

"You know, just because you may think I'm irresponsible, for some reason, it doesn't mean I don't have time to do my homework," said Liam. "I kind of had to get used to it. It was the only means of entertainment two years ago, considering I didn't _have_ any friends. Until, of course, Tessa."

Harry noticed the smile shared amongst his cousin and his red-haired friend. There was a certain gleam on his face, something happy stirred in both their eyes.

"Well, off to breakfast," said Liam, snapping the gaze between the two. "Oi! One of you need to bring me back my homework before lunch. History of Magic's after and I wouldn't fancy getting on Von Seiler's bad side, especially considering my father's the one who practically set the syllabus."

Venus Sting was the only professor in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom when the students filed in. He was seated behind the desk writing across a piece of parchment, a pair of thin-rimmed glasses hanging at the tip of his nose. Some strands of his yellow-blonde hair had curtained his face.

There was a tense feeling in the atmosphere, and it made Harry and Liam uneasy. Not because they trusted Venus just as much as the rest of the students, but because they feared he would be criticised due to his past. Draco Malfoy and the McElroy twins would most probably come up with anything to make Venus uncomfortable. Most of the students –– all of the students –– would probably be too scared or too ignorant to listen to Venus, making them report this to their parents or to the Ministry itself. They feared Venus Sting would get fired or resign because people would not accept him as a teacher, only as a prisoner.

Harry and Liam sat next to each other in the front of the classroom, where they got a clear view of Venus and Professor Lupin, wherever he was. Most of the chatter had been reduced to silent mumbling, and Harry and Liam could see many of the students pointing in Venus's direction. Some had gingerly taken a seat, racing to the ones that were farthest from the front. Those who weren't so lucky to catch the back seats silently groaned and tried moving their desks away from Venus.

Harry and Liam just sighed and looked away. The more they saw how scared the students were of Venus, the more they felt sorry for him, and that wasn't the attitude they wanted for his first lesson. Instead, they were taking their books, parchment and quills out.

"There is no need to take out your books, just your wands," said Venus. He looked up at the class and they all seemed to freeze at his gaze, but he bore a wide smile as though he'd just heard a funny joke. "Today will be a practical lesson." With his wide smile still on, Venus looked back at his parchment and continued writing. "We're just waiting for Professor Lupin, and then we'll get straight to it."

Professor Lupin came in a few minutes later, right at the moment when Venus dotted his line on his parchment and put it aside.

"Sorry I'm late," said Professor Lupin. "I had to clear something up. In any case, it appears as though Professor Sting has gotten you all prepared for today's lesson. Now, if you may please follow us."

The students followed Professor Lupin and Professor Sting out of the classroom and through the halls. They had been intercepted by Peeves, who broke into a very rude song about Professor Lupin. However, it did not seem as though Lupin was troubled by "Loony loopy Lupin ... loony loopy Lupin ...", he had just smiled. Once they got passed him, they approached the staffroom door.

They had entered the staffroom, which was a long, panelled room filled of old mismatched chairs. Snape and Wolverhampton were seated, chatting to each other. They both bore a very sly grin, and stood at their arrival.

"Pardon us, we would not like to be here to watch," said Professor Wolverhampton. He and Snape had walked pass them, and then stopped when they approached Neville Longbottom.

"Some students," began Professor Snape, facing Venus and Lupin, "are not very capable of doing much, that is to say, Mr Longbottom and Mr Higgins. That is unless, of course, Miss Granger and Miss Williams aren't assisting them."

Harry saw that Snape and Wolverhampton had looked at Neville, who had gone red, and a chubby boy in the midst of the students, whose cheeks looked so red it he thought they were permanent.

"No one's incapable, Severus," said Venus. "it just takes time, and patience ... something I think you haven't gotten used to."

Snape's smile turned into a scowl, "I would assume you, of all people, would remark on something like that ... good luck with the class, Venus. Don't expect a lot, considering they all know of the prisoner who escaped Kazaban."

Venus was still smiling, although there was a certain inflamed gleam in his eyes that said something along the lines of _The first chance I get ..._ Snape and Wolverhampton had left. Venus had turned (Harry and Liam could have sworn they heard him say "slimy git") and led the class to the back of the staffroom. There had been a wardrobe, and as soon as the entire class had gathered around it, it rattled and shook from side to side.

"Do not be alarmed," said Lupin. "It's a boggart."

The class just looked more frightened.

"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," said Venus. "Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks —"

"I've even met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and we asked the headmasters if the staff would leave it to give our third years some practice," continued Lupin.

"The first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a boggart?" questioned Venus, his radiating smile was back on.

Hermione put up her hand. Ron looked a little startled. He turned and mouthed to Harry and Liam _When did they get here._

They had realised then that Hermione and Tessa had not been anywhere near them on their way up to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.

"It's a shape-shifter," she said. "It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."

"Excellent, Miss Granger," said Venus. He winked at Hermione, who glowed and tried to hide the fact that she had been blushing.

"So the boggart sitting inside this wardrobe has not yet assumed a form." said Lupin. "He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a boggart looks like when he is alone, but when we let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears."

"This means," said Professor Sting, "that we have a huge advantage over the boggart before we begin. Who would like to tell us what it is? Harry?"

"Er — because there are so many of us, it won't know what shape it should be?"

"Good answer, Harry," said Professor Lupin. "Company is the key when facing a boggart. He becomes confused. Should he become a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug?"

"We've once seen a boggart make that very mistake — tried to frighten two people at once and turned himself into half a slug. And I have no idea who would find _that_ frightening," said Venus. "The charm that repels a boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a boggart is _laughter_. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing."

"Let us practice with our wands, first," said Lupin. "Repeat after me ... _Riddikulus!"_

" _Riddikulus!"_ the class repeated.

"Good," said Venus. "Now, Mr Longbottom ..." He started looking overhead, into the crowd. The mass of students parted, revealing Neville in the middle. Harry and Liam thought he was doing a pretty bad job at trying not to show that he was trembling; he obviously still thought of Venus Sting as a criminal, but Venus, again, didn't appear to be upset about it. "Would you like to prove Professor Snape and Professor Wolverhampton wrong?" he asked reassuringly. He threw Neville a smile that seemed to pacify the unpleasantly tensed mood. Even Harry and Liam felt something uplifting their attitudes.

Neville stepped forward, rolling his shoulders back and unsteadily bringing up his wand. He stood in front of the wardrobe. His face was pale. Venus clapped his hand on his shoulder, and Neville jumped, and then the wardrobe shook again.

"Nothing to worry about, Neville," said Venus, his tone was calming, only Neville had been the only one who didn't seem relax this time. "Tell me, what do you fear most?"

Neville's lips moved, but nothing came out of his mouth.

"Sorry, we didn't catch that," said Professor Lupin.

"Professor Snape."

Nearly everyone in the room laughed. Venus turned to look at them and they all suddenly seemed to forget why they were laughing in the first place, even if he hadn't looked the least bit upset.

"Professor Snape?" asked Professor Lupin.

"Anyone can wonder why," murmured Venus. Liam and Harry had smiled, and they could have sworn they heard someone else snickering.

"Anyway ... Neville, we heard you live with your grandmother, true?" asked Lupin.

"Yes, sir," said Neville.

"What does she wear?"

"Well … always the same hat. A tall one with a stuffed vulture on top. And a long dress … green, normally … and sometimes a fox-fur scarf."

"And a handbag?"

"A big red one," said Neville.

"All right, then," said Venus, "the boggart in that wardrobe will assume the form of Professor Snape, and when it does, you need to hold up your wand and say _Riddikulus_ , okay?"

"Okay ..."

"If Neville is successful, the boggart is likely to shift his attention to each of us in turn," explained Professor Lupin. "I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical. …"

Everyone turned to each other and then thought. Harry thought of a memory and couldn't find one ... what scared him most in the world? He looked at Liam, who was probably struggling to find his worst fear, too. Then suddenly he pulled a face, and Harry burst into a laugh before smacking his hand to his mouth.

Many heads turned to him. Hermione even narrowed her eyebrows, and then her gaze flittered to Liam, but the ones he feared most were Professor Lupin and Professor Sting. He was shocked to find that they had been smiling at him, Harry even thought they were snickering. Perhaps laughing with him.

"And remember to concentrate, otherwise it will not work," said Venus, suddenly. "Now, we're going to let the boggart out. Do not be alarmed."

"What's your fear, _Giggles?"_ asked Liam, grinning.

Harry's mind stirred. Venus and Lupin hadn't moved just yet which left him with a small amount of time to come up with something. He first imagined Lord Voldemort, standing triumphantly beside his companion Valindor ... but his mind didn't go to boggart-Voldemort, it went to —

"Dementors?" Liam suddenly said.

"You, too?"

"No," he said simply. "Dementors are scary and all, but there're scarier things that have rattled my sleep at night."

"Valindor?"

"Heck no!" he said, a little louder than anticipated. "Valindor's a high and mighty wizard, but even he's not enough to give me nightmares."

"Then who?"

Liam didn't have time to answer, Professor Lupin began to speak again.

"Are you ready, Neville?" he asked. "We're going to back away. Let you have a clear field, all right? I'll call the next person forward … Everyone back, now, so Neville can get a clear shot —"

The students shuffled back in a mass, leaving Neville alone in front of the wardrobe, which rocked again.

Lupin held his wand up at the doorknob of the wardrobe. "On the count of three. One ... two ... three."

A jet of sparks shot out of Lupin's wand and hit the doorknob. Snape, with his menacing expression and hooked nose, stepped out of the wardrobe.

Neville backed away, his hand trembling and his wand was dangling between his fingers. Snape kept stepping closer and closer whilst Neville found it difficult to say the words.

" _R –– r ––– Riddikulus!"_

There was a noise, like a whip crack, and Professor Snape halted, looking down upon himself. He wore a lace-trimmed dress and a hat that was topped with a moth-eaten vulture. Hung around his arm, swinging, was a large, red bag.

The entire class erupted into laughter, and the boggart looked around the crowd, confused.

"You're up, Parvati," said Professor Sting. For a moment, Harry and Liam had a sore feeling that Parvati would freeze after hearing Venus call her name, but she stepped forward, a settled expression across her face, and held her wand high up.

The whipping noise boomed, and Snape had vanished. What stood before them had been a bloodstained, bandaged mummy. He began stepping toward Parvati.

" _Riddikulus!"_ cried Parvati.

A bandage had unraveled from the mummy's foot. A moment later, it was wound tightly, entangled, in strips of cloth. It stumbled forward and fell flat on its face.

"Excellent!" said Professor Lupin. "Beck! Your turn!"

Beck Lavery stepped forward. He was relaxed and shot Simon a look that evidently said _watch me ace this._

 _CRACK!_

Beck staggered back, and the crowd erupted in a roar of laughter; the boggart seemed a little confused, but managed to recover its stare on Beck. What stood before them, no taller than Lupin, with long, curly hair and a very taut expression, was who appeared to be Beck's mother. She was holding something in her hand, a report, maybe?

" _Riddikulus!"_ yelled Beck.

The report in Mrs Lavery's hand inflated into a large, paper balloon before it popped with a burst glittering shower of red. When it died down, Mrs Lavery had broken into a type of tap dance.

"Good effort, Beck," said Venus. "Seamus!"

 _CRACK!_

In front of Seamus lay a woman with length black hair and a skeletal, green-tinged face –– a banshee. She opened her mouth and the room filled with an unpleasant cry.

"That's a banshee!" squealed Lavender Brown.

" _Riddikulus!"_ cried Seamus.

The banshee clipped its hands around its throat as its horrible cry seized. But, within the crack, the boggart had turned into a rat. With another pop it was a rattlesnake, and then a single eyeball, bloody and all.

"Next! Simon!" called out Lupin.

Simon stepped up, still a little red from laughing, and when the iris of the bloody eyeball spun around to see him, it exploded into a puddle of water, growing larger and larger until it was big enough to appear as a lake.

The classroom burst into laughter.

"Si, you're afraid of water?" asked Beck sympathetically.

Simon shook his head, his eyes glued to the body of water. Suddenly, a pair of big, bulbous eyes flickered open from the middlemost area of the lake. It looked directly at Simon, blinking, leaving ripples in the water.

"What is _that?"_ asked one of the other girls.

" _R –– Riddikulus!"_ yelled Simon.

The eyes appeared to shrink and the body of water decreased in size. It kept growing small until, at last, it reached the eyes, wrapping it in a transparent bubble that lifted into the air, and then popped into a small puddle.

"Very well done, Simon," said Venus. "Next! Dean!"

 _CRACK!_

The puddle of water contracted into a small, blobby form. It splattered its way to Dean, each time materialising into a severed hand.

" _Riddikulus!"_

The hand made one last leap before landing in a mouse trap.

"Ron!"

 _CRACK!_

A few people screamed. Liam even hid behind Harry, _as if that would do anything_ Harry thought.

A six foot tall giant spider appeared. It was covered in hair and its eight eyes big enough to reflect Ron's terrified expression.

" _Riddikulus!"_

The spider's legs contracted into its body, leaving it rolling across the staffroom until Venus stopped it.

Harry stepped up next, but Lupin was in front of him. Harry wondered when he got there.

 _CRACK!_

What they saw now was a floating orb, pressed on an inky sky.

"Come on, Neville! Finish it off!" yelled Lupin.

Neville pushed past Harry with his wand firm in hand. He raised it as Snape returned.

" _Riddikulus!"_

Snape, in the lacy dress, stopped in his tracks. The class was laughing again. The boggart had burst into tiny wisps of smoke.

Lupin turned to the rest of the class.

"Excellent work, today!" said Venus, clapping his hands. He made his way to Lupin and clamped his hand on his shoulder. "I think you should be awarded."

"Yes ... all those who went up against the boggart, five points each," said Lupin. Beck and Simon high-fived each other. "Ten for Neville since he went twice. And I think Harry and Hermione can get some, too."

"But I didn't do anything," said Harry, almost whining.

"You two answered our questions correctly," said Lupin. "That's deserving of points."

The bell hummed through the class.

"For homework, read up on the chapter on boggarts and write a summary for Monday," said Venus. "You'll find C.S Eckhart has a very good explanation of it in his book. We suggest you go through that one first."

"Well done, Neville," said Liam before Neville could leave. "This seems to be your week. First, points in History of Magic now in Defence Against the Dark Arts. You're on a roll."

"Thanks, Liam," said Neville.

"I wonder what would happen if that Tago potion actually had a mind," said Liam, absentmindedly. Lunch was coming up and the fact that he would need to drink his potions first wasn't the most pleasant feeling.

"If it did, I bet it would tell you that it'll rip your throat to shreds when you drink it," said Ron, grinning.

"Probably ––"

"What is the meaning of this?" asked a hoarse voice. Filch.

"What's going on?" asked Harry.

Students filled the entrance hall, surrounding Filch, who had Mrs Norris on his shoulder, Professor McGonagall and Professor McDonald. They had been talking to who appeared to be Luca McElroy and Lucius Malfoy. In between them was a small, stout man with a short-cropped blonde hair and a small taut face. He was wearing a long, billowing, black and white cloak that was too small to fit him, so it made him look like a very uptight penguin.

"Who's that, Mr Penguin?" whispered Ron in Harry and Liam's ears.

They both had to hold back a laugh to prevent the attention of the crowd turning to them.

"Why are you two here?" asked Professor McDonald. "I haven't received a notice from the Headmasters stating your arrival for your children," she looked around to Draco and the McElroy twins, who were very red with embarrassment or possibly fear, "thus it must mean you're here for work purposes. However, the possibility of you arriving at Hogwarts for work purposes is very doubtful as I do recall both your positions in the Board of Governors has been terminated. So why are you here, Mr Malfoy ... Mr McElroy?"

Mr Malfoy pulled a face.

"By this order," Mr Malfoy held up a long piece of parchment, "signed by Mr Rojen Ellington, who is very high up in the Board of Governors, we are allowed to do an official checkup on Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"And what is the undefined object you are holding?" asked Professor McDonald, eyeing Mr McElroy with such a stern expression that Harry nearly trembled at the sight of it.

Under Mr McElroy's arm was a round, ornate urn. He tried, in his best efforts, to hide it, which wasn't very difficult to achieve considering it was small enough to be held in a hand.

"Additional equipment," said Mr McElroy, smiling, his hawkish eyes gleaming menacingly. "All of this is absolutely essential for the task at hand, isn't that right, Mr Ellington?"

The stout man –– Mr Ellington –– was a little late in response, but he nodded nonetheless. Harry found something rather odd about him; he almost looked half asleep, otherwise transfixed on something in his mind.

"Now, if you may," Mr McElroy turned to look at the crowd, which opened a path, "mind your own business as we do out little duty. It won't take too long, I assure you, Elaine. Unless, of course, you get in our way ... then the pretences of that will be very _unfortunate."_

He said it so slow that every word was clung onto.

"We won't get in your way, Mr McElroy ..." said Professor McGonagall hesitantly. "Excuse us for being curious." She stared after them with an alarming expression, as if to tell them that they didn't have the right to be here. Then McGonagall turned to the students. "Off you go to lunch! All of you!"

"Did you notice anything wrong with Mr Penguin?" Harry asked Liam in his ear.

"Yeah ..." began Liam, "probably had a bad dream. Or maybe his wifey was a little angry. Although, if I had to be honest, I can't exactly imagine _him_ with a wife."

"What do you mean 'you haven't yet gotten your Hogsmeade letter signed'?"

Harry didn't understand why Liam was so worked up about this. A Hogsmeade weekend was coming up and he still hadn't sent Hedwig to the Clark Mansion to get his form signed. Honestly, he forgot about doing it.

"Come on!" he dragged Harry's hand to a nearby table in the common room. "We're going to do our Defence Against the Dark Arts homework, but along with that, _you're_ going to write a letter to my parents with the Hogsmeade letter attached. Then you're going to go to the Owlery before dinner and give it to either Hedwig or Patches, understood?"

"Understood."

"Make sure to add in why you never asked them in the first place," said Liam.

Then they sat. Liam opened his Defence Against the Dark Arts book and began reading. Harry wondered how he found this as a form of entertainment. Homework was anything but entertaining, but, to be fair, Liam didn't have any friends until Tessa came up to him. Then he took out his quill, a roll of parchment and began to write. It was almost a hour when he finished, which was surprising given how much he wrote.

 _Hi Aunt Ange, Uncle Tom_

 _I'm terribly sorry. We got Hogsmeade letters to sign at the beginning of the year before we went to Hogwarts but my uncle and aunt on the Dursleys side didn't want to sign it. Liam said it'll be a good idea to ask you guys over owl, so I'm asking you guys if you can please sign it and return it._

 _I put the letter with it._

 _Hope you're good._

 _Thanks._

 _Harry._

Harry thought that the letter was way too informal to address his aunt and uncle, but he honestly couldn't think of much to write down. He sealed it and looked at Liam, who had written half a page of a summary on boggarts.

"It's an hour and you're only half a page," said Harry.

"It's an hour and you managed to write two sentences," said Liam. "Besides, I've covered up two pages worth of notes on boggarts in just half a page."

"Wow," said Harry. "Hermione would've done three pages alone."

"I know ... so would Tessa," grumbled Liam, who dotted his sentence and gave his summary to Harry. "Make a summary of my summary. I'm pretty sure you'll get bored of reading through Eckhart's description of the boggart." Harry took it, surprised; he had never been given homework to copy so openly before. "Anyway, my dad gave me a few simple tips on how to summarise before the beginning of last year. Mom taught me how to use it effectively. Came to some good use. I managed to even satisfy Wolverhampton. He didn't show it, but I got a good mark for many of the assignments he gave us. At one point he wondered if Tessa was helping me and ended up investigating it ... let's just say things didn't turnout too well for him."

"Is that the boggart homework for Defence Against the Dark Arts?" asked Ron, who appeared behind Harry's shoulder, peering down on Liam's half page notes on boggarts. "Whose is this?"

"Mine," said Liam.

"Seriously?" said Ron, as if he couldn't understand how Liam could've completed the homework already. "Can I copy it?"

"Like Harry, make a summary of my summary ... and make sure it's different to Harry's," said Liam. "But you two can make summaries after dinner. Let's go."

The Gryffindor table was rowdy when Harry, Liam and Ron arrived. They couldn't see much from where they sat, but a group of boys were bunched together on one end. A moment later, Liam realised that Hermione and Tessa were sitting on the other end, flanking a blonde girl –– Violet Reece –– who was in the middle of eating her cottage pie. His eyes flittered between the group of boys and the three girls, then he got up and walked to the group of boys.

"Liam, what are you ––"

"Well I'll be damned!" said Liam. The group had parted to let Liam in. "How long has it been since I've seen you, Thompson?"

A boy with black hair stood, smiling.

"Too long to be true, Clark," said Callum Thompson. The two grinned at each other, as though they were brothers who hadn't seen each other in five years.

Harry grinned, too. He didn't know Callum as well as he knew Liam and Ron, but Callum was considered one of his closest friends. They hadn't seen him in a while, Harry began to think whether he even bothered staying after he was announced to show around the new girl, which was very ironic. Callum roomed with Liam, Ron, Harry and the other third year boys, it wouldn't be very hard to see him and simply say hi, but whenever he got up, Callum was already gone.

"How have you been?" asked Liam.

"I'm good," said Callum. "Still have to show around the new girl."

"Oh yeah, how's that been?" asked Liam.

"Fine, I guess," said Callum. "She's a really good listener, so it isn't hard explaining things. Plus, she's got a good memory too and she's good in class."

"I guess that's why she's with the smartest third years," said Liam.

Harry watched as they talked. They hadn't kept the conversation for long, Harry wondered if it was because Liam was too hungry too keep talking. But after a while, Liam sat back down and prepared himself to drink his potions. Of course, he cringed and nearly threw up on most, but he managed to hold it in for the sake of Harry and Ron. Then they all began to eat.

"Can't wait for Ayers practice," said Liam. "I've been dying to get up in the air. I dunno why I didn't do it over the holidays."

"If you think you've got it bad, try me," said Harry. "I'm not even allowed to look at my broomstick if I want to keep eating."

"Those Dursleys are horrible to you, Harry!" said Ron.

"Honestly, I dunno why you don't just ditch them and come live with us," said Liam. "It's not as though they'll notice. And if they do, I'm sure they wouldn't care."

"It's harder than it sounds ––"

All the candles blew.

A menacingly shallow laugh boomed. Students were mumbling and shifting around in their seats. Harry swallowed what was left in his mouth and looked around. Dark figures were moving about but none of them seemed to be laughing. In any fact, the laugh was deep and slow, and so loud that it couldn't have come out of any of their mouths.

"Peeves is gonna get it," said Ron, uncertainly.

"I don't think that's Peeves," said Harry, looking at the ceiling, which still cackled and thundered like the stormy skies outside, however with floating, blotchy candles inked in.

" _Hello, students of Hogwarts."_ The voice resonated through the Great Hall, cutting every conversation short. The words seemed to reverberate off the walls, bouncing from one side to the other so that it sounded amplified. _"I come to bring a fair warning: this school will grow ill very soon. So ill that no one would be able to save it, unless ... you were to sacrifice one ... just one ... Mudblood student to me ... I understand this society is explicitly diverse, thus I must encourage you all to think upon this ... save the many lives of the school for the cost of one Mudblood student."_

The candles were set ablaze again, and the Great Hall lit up. The muttering began, and this time everyone looked frightened –– the Slytherin house showed a little less fear, but they were all still very shaken up by the unexpected presence of the voice.

"What was that all about?" asked Harry.

"Someone wants a Muggleborn student for some reason, but judging the fact it came here in the dark with a voice like that possibly means its for dark purposes, or the Muggleborn would end up in a very bad condition when he's done with them," said Liam.

 _CLINK! CLINK! CLINK! CLINK!_

Professor Glumberry were tapping his fork against his goblet, grabbing the attention of everyone in the room.

"Calm down, all! Calm down!" said Professor Glumberry. "There is nothing to worry about."

"There is _everything_ to worry about," Liam said to Harry and Ron.


	8. The Scorpion Chest

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The Scorpion Sting

Liam never thought he would ever find it painful to look at the light, but as he woke, the bright glow that filled the Hospital Wing seared his eyes and intensified his aching head. He sat up instead and rubbed his forehead. He could not tell if it was his head that was sore or his scar.

"Liam!" someone called.

He attempted to open his eyes once more but the light attacked him again. He managed to catch a glimpse of a number of figures bustling toward him, but he could not see whom exactly. A hand clamped his shoulder; the abrupt movement made him sway, which only added to the pain in his head.

"Liam, are you okay?" asked another voice.

"Lights ..." mumbled Liam, and he made a hand gesture.

Suddenly the sound of collapsing shutters came and Liam could no longer see a reddish gleam through the shade of his eyelids. Carefully, he opened his eyes and blinked. In a now dark Hospital Wing, his parents knelt on either side of him, both with an arm apiece, with Harry, Ron, Hermione and Tessa beside them.

"Liam, dear, are you okay?" his mother asked.

"No – yeah – I'm fine ... have a headache, though," said Liam, holding his head in his hand. Before he said anything else, he looked around him.

He was not the only one in the Hospital Wing. Nearly all the bedspreads had been occupied with a student. The matrons, Madam Pomfrey and Madam Madison, were scuttling along the floor, trying to tend to each and every one of them. Somewhere along the way, they passed Adrian McElroy, whose sister was in tears beside him. Seeing his rival hopeless in bed triggered something in his head.

"The match – what happened?" asked Liam.

"Lack of blood flow," said Mr Clark. "You and McElroy. Your sickness clotted your blood to strangulate flow, and because you needed more energy to fly in the match, you two fainted."

The memory came back like a hot iron rod prying into his mind. He caught the Runner and McElroy blocked his way to the Scorpiosting goals ... and then his vision blurred ... the dizziness hit him and before he knew it the Runner left his hands and he was falling through the sky.

However, that would not explain the rest of the students. They were not all Ayers players.

"And what about –"

He caught his breath, examining his parents carefully. Both of them looked extremely tired, with bagged eyes and pale faces. His mother actually looked like a basset hound. Were they _that_ worried? Did they think that he would die as he lay unconscious in the Hospital Wing?

"What, the rest of the students?" asked Mr Clark. He sighed. "You've been out for three weeks. Within that period this 'Scorpomorbus' progressively exacerbated. It got so out of control that we could not do anything about it. We've been working on potions that could at least subside the pain temporarily but ... there's just so much students struggling with so many painful symptoms ..."

"You may have been out for three weeks, but Adrian's been out for one so you can imagine how worried we were that you hadn't woken yet ..." said his mother.

"Adrian stayed in the Hospital Wing for two weeks extra?" asked Liam.

"You know the McElroys ... being a drama queen runs in the family," said Mr Clark with a nervous laugh.

"B-but ..." stammered Liam, "the exams ..."

"Called off," said Mrs Clark. Liam looked at Hermione and Tessa, both of whom he would have thought were upset about yet another year of no exams, but they had an unreadable expression on, one that made him think they may have been relieved about it. "The just of the school's sick, no one's going to be able to concentrate with it."

"They can't do that, can they?" asked Liam. "The NEWT students ..."

"They'll be writing theirs during the term holiday a–" Mr Clark stopped himself. Liam could only think of why, he would have said _assuming the whole school doesn't die before then ..._ "The rest of the school will have to bear with not doing any examinations."

That wasn't bad news, but the fact that the only reason they wouldn't be examined this year was that students were too ill to do them bothered Liam. Eventually everyone will die from this, and nobody had any other idea to save them apart from giving up a Muggleborn student. Before this, Liam did not believe that this sickness could not be cured. He refused to think that such a disease could infect a school. Hundreds of innocent lives put at the peril of something incurable … that was rubbish and incredibly rare.

But now in this position, he recalled the pain he endured before his parents came. This sickness was real and he could barely do anything. He became tired of it. When his parents came, he felt that whatever they put in their breakfast everyday granted him days of bliss. He could manage most things now without moaning, groaning and aching with pain. He could focus on doing his homework and helping Hagrid with Buckbeak's appeal ...

 _Buckbeak's appeal!_

As though reading his mind, Hermione had said, "Buckbeak's appeal's tomorrow. Thought you should know."

Liam shut his eyes. The many things he had said he would do ... he never got the opportunity to do them. He was too fixed on his homework that it left little space for him to do any research for the appeal. He spent ten to twenty minutes on it every night and could not find anything. He had later told himself to approach his parents about the matter, regardless to what they were doing, after their match against Slytherin ... but it seemed as though Scorpiosting's sickness couldn't care less.

Liam sighed. "I should have helped –"

"What could you do, Liam?" asked Tessa. "You were stuck here ... unconscious."

"Yeah, try doing anything when you're senseless –"

" _Ron!"_ hissed Hermione.

"Did you ask them?" asked Liam, pointing at his parents, but he did not give them an opportunity to answer. "Did you help with the appeal?" he asked his parents.

Neither of his parents answered immediately.

"We tried," said his mother. "But, like everything else, no luck."

"What – how – never mind –" he fumbled about in his bed and then tore off the blankets.

"What are you doing?" questioned his mother.

"There's still one more day until the appeal. We can still do something about it," said Liam.

"Liam, you just woke up from a _coma,"_ said his mother. "By the looks of it, it appears you woke with a headache –"

"Which is gone, mum," said Liam.

"Liam, listen to your mother," said Mr Clark. "You can't go about now, not after just waking up. You need a bit of rest. Trust me, you'll feel much better after a little nap –"

"I'll feel better when that idiot Malfoy doesn't win!" said Liam. "That big old cry baby has almost _ruined_ Hagrid's life and I have a feeling he won't stop at that! Hagrid and Dreagon care about that Hippogriff and frankly, so do I and because of him, because Malfoy went off to daddy, poor Buckbeak will be killed! You can't tell me to rest at the stake of an innocent life."

His parents exchanged looks. Liam felt good about that, it probably did the deal.

"On one condition," said his mother. "It's a Thursday, which means you still have school. What lesson do you have after lunch?" she asked Hermione and Tessa.

"Charms and Divination," Hermione answered.

"Right, you eat lunch and you go to your last two subjects. After that, you can tear your eyes out trying to find a way to help Buckbeak," said Mrs Clark. "Agreed?"

"Fine."

"And _eat,_ Liam," added his mother. "Actually put some food on your plate and eat it ... you kind of need something in that stomach of yours."

"Yes, mum."

He ate but could barely register what he was doing. He was restless and uneasy. Liam knew he was comatose for all of these three weeks but he felt that he should have put more work into this appeal. He took on a responsibility and he failed to fulfil it.

"Liam, you okay?" asked Harry.

"Fine," he said.

"Liam, you couldn't have done anything," said Hermione.

"It's not that ... I just ... I could've done _more_ ," he told them.

"You've done enough," said Hermione. "If anything you've done more than all of us. And you've had to put up with this sickness and all ... it can't have been easy ..."

"I still could have done more," mumbled Liam. He was getting sick of the mention of this disease. For the most of this year, it rendered him useless, and he hated that feeling. He hated not being able to do anything but lay on that long couch and sleep. "Come on, we better get to Charms."

As he stood, he realised all the anger he stored away after all of this happened. He had anger for Scorpiosting – or whoever plagued this school – for making him sick and useless. He was angry with Malfoy and the McElroys for creating this dystopian nightmare for Hagrid and Dreagon, and at the Committee for crumbling at Lucius Malfoy's feet. This blistering anger made him promise that he would ask his parents to dispose of every member of the Committee that allowed this to happen.

"What have I missed?" asked Liam.

"Well, not much," said Tessa. "This is supposed to be the exam week but ... it's not happening so the teachers haven't done much with us."

"So, nothing to catch up?" he asked.

"No," said Tessa.

"Well, what a surprise," said a voice.

It was Cornelius Fudge, in his usual pinstriped cloak, with plumply Eric Cornel beside him in a very tight cloak.

"Ah, how do you do Harry? Liam?" asked Cornel.

"Fine, Prime Minister," said Liam, in the sweetest voice he could muster to hide his bitter feelings to everyone in the Ministry. "Nice to see you again, Minister."

"And you, Liam," said Fudge. "Lovely day, isn't it? It's a pity ..."

"We were called here to address the Sirius Black matter as well as the eerie sickness you poor students have to deal with," said Cornel. "But the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures insisted on a witness for the execution of a mad Hippogriff."

"But the appeal's tomorrow, isn't it?" asked Ron.

"Alas, they moved it up a day," announced Fudge. "We were on our way, you see, and busy Ministry officials tend not to have much time on their hands so you could understand."

"Have they brought this case to my father?" asked Tessa. "He's the Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, surely they must have."

"I'm sorry to say, Miss Williams, the Committee didn't see any reason to," said Cornel. "You must understand, Mr Malfoy's claim was very strong. They dealt with it immediately."

"But then there must be a way we can change _their_ minds," said Harry.

Cornel and Fudge did not say anything more. They put on a dilute smile, as if to reassure them that this was for the good. They then looked up and their smiles disappeared. Behind them had been two men. One had a scruffy moustache that was dusty and matted, and the other held an axe over his shoulder that seemed to glisten wickedly in the light. They must have been from the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures.

"Why's the executioner here?" questioned Liam, and he looked back at Cornel and Fudge, who were both very nervous to meet his eyes. "It's just the appeal, isn't it?"

"Like we said, Ministry officials can get busy ..." said Cornel. "If nothing changes in the appeal, we're afraid –"

"Well, we must be off, now," Fudge interrupted. He fastened his pinstriped cloak before he and Cornel broke past them to join the two men from the Committee. Liam wanted to yell at them that Buckbeak wasn't a danger. He wanted to race them down there and tell them if they wanted to kill Buckbeak, then they were going to have to axe him down first – which was something they wouldn't do ... he hoped.

"Why bring the executioner?" Liam asked his friends as he watched the Prime Minister and Minister set off for Hagrid and Dreagon's hut. "If it's just the appeal then why bring the executioner ... they can't have already ... made up their mind –"

"Don't," Hermione said sharply. "Just don't!"

Hermione dragged Tessa to the front, and together they led them off to the Charms classroom. He hadn't concentrated much in the lesson, but it didn't make much of a difference. Sunderland and Flitwick decided that they would allow what little of the students they had to duel. They asked Liam if he wanted to participate, but he used the fact that he just woke up from a coma as an excuse to get out of it.

He was imagining what was happening at the appeal, hoping that Hagrid and Dreagon could keep it together this one last time. Hagrid said that he got tongue-tied during the trial; Liam doubted he would keep it together for the appeal, not with that sharp axe in his company, taunting him as he fought for Buckbeak's life.

When they arrived at Divination next, Liam was a little alarmed when Professor Trelawney had suddenly swept up in front of him with a wide grin on her face. Her spindly hands clasped his shoulders and she, herself, escorted Liam to the rickety table they always sat at.

"Wonderful! Wonderful! You arrived here today, dear, just as I suspected ..." she had said in a proud whisper. She whisked away in great speed, and then regarded her own crystal ball.

Liam screwed up his face and looked at Harry and Ron for assistance.

"Probably heard you were out of the Hospital Wing," said Harry.

But even Trelawney's sudden welcome to his appearance didn't take Liam's mind off of the appeal. He just hoped Hagrid and Dreagon would be okay. He didn't listen to a word she said, but then again, that was his usual approach to every Divinations lesson he's had.

He was so engrossed on the outcome of the appeal that he hadn't noticed the lesson had been over until after the classroom was empty. He started packing, and then Harry came in.

"Well, you're slow today," said Harry.

"Sorry, I'm just ..."

"We know, we're all worried, too," said Harry.

Liam shouldered his bag and was about to walk out with Harry when something, like glass, broke.

They spun around and saw Professor Trelawney writhing in her armchair, the shattered remnants of a blue teacup on the floor below her.

"Professor –"

" _Mend the bone too thick to work, the Potter kid will end in hurt. Break the chest filled with the secrets within. Cure the plague or Clark will give in._ _"_

Liam knew those words, he'd heard them before ...

"What?" muttered Harry.

"She's mentioned that before," said Liam. "Professor –"

" _It will happen tonight!"_ she continued. _"The Dark Lords drawn apart and alone, abandoned by all, will unite again. Their servant has been chained for twelve years and tonight, before midnight, he will break free from his bonds and set to rejoin with his masters. The Dark Lords will rise again with the aid of their servant ... and they will rise greater and more terrible than ever ... Tonight ... before midnight ... the servant ... will set out ... to rejoin ... his masters ..."_

"Servant – chained for twelve years ... she doesn't mean Sirius Black, does she?" Liam asked.

Harry shrugged.

"Boys?" called Trelawney in a dreamy way. "Did you need anything?"

"Err – no –" said Liam. He pulled a face.

"Anything the matter, dear?" she asked.

"You – you just told us that the – the Dark Lords're going to rise again ... that his servant's going to go back to them ..." said Harry.

Professor Trelawney looked thoroughly startled.

"The Dark Lords? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and Mr Who? Dear me, that is not something you can freely joke about ... especially about them rising again ... dear me, dear me ..."

"But you just – you said it! Just now –"

"Such a wild imagination you have ... did you hear it too, dear?" Trelawney asked Liam.

"Yes," Liam said plainly.

"Well ... then you two must have dozed off ... it isn't uncommon, you know, it happens to me all the time ... quite like now ..." Trelawney assured. "I would certainly not presume to predict anything quite as far-fetched as _that –_ dear me ..." she noticed the pieces of broken china on the floor. "Whatever in the name of Merlin happened here ... ooh, dear me ..."

And she fumbled off to clean up the broken teacup. Harry and Liam exchanged looks, and then set back down the ladder and spiral staircase.

"'Break the bonds too thick to work' ... what d'you suppose that means?" Harry asked.

"Dunno," said Liam. "Reckon she's gone barmy. And what about 'the Potter kid will end in hurt' ... sounds like this 'bond'll knock you silly if you're going to hurt."

"Hey, she also said you'll 'give in'" said Harry. "That part I got. If we don't do something about this sickness, and fast, then you'll die and the rest of the school with you ... well, not the healthy ones, but there are barely any of those, are there."

"And what about that last part ... d'you think she meant Black will rendezvous with the Dark Lords somewhere between now and midnight?"

"If he does, that would mean the Dark Lords will rise again tonight ..." said Harry.

"'Greater and more terrible than ever before' ... that doesn't sound too good," said Liam. People didn't even dare mention the names of the Dark Lords ... what would happen if they were "greater and more terrible than ever before"?

A couple of minutes later they had strolled past the security trolls outside the entrance of the Gryffindor Tower and were bounding up the stairs. _Trelawney's a fraud!_ Liam kept repeating to himself. She kept uttering bad news, not good. Why did everything have to be bad? They found the common room nearly deserted as they entered, and in the corner had been Hermione, Ron and Tessa.

"Professor Trelawney," Harry panted, "just told us –"

Liam was just as eager as Harry to tell them what the loony professor told them, but he saw their expressions. Hermione and Tessa were nearing tears and Ron was sad.

Liam opened his mouth and asked, "What happened –" and Ron shoved a letter in his hands.

 _We lost. It's going to happen at sunset. There's nothing you can do. We don't want you to see it so don't come down._

 _Dreagon._

"What –"

"Dreagon's latest update," said Tessa feebly.

"We've got to go down, then," said Liam suddenly.

"Yeah, they can't just sit there and wait for the executioner!" said Harry.

"Sunset, though," said Ron, who was staring out the window in a glazed sort of way. "We'd never be allowed ... 'specially you, Harry ..."

"Not if we have this," said Liam, holding out his Ring.

"A ring?" asked Hermione.

"What's that gonna do?" asked Ron.

Of course, Tessa and Harry were the only ones who knew about it. He held out his finger and slipped the ring on.

"Whoa!" said Ron. "An Invisibility Ring! Neat."

"How –"

"You can't be a Boy Who Lived without an object that can turn you invisible, right?" joked Harry.

Liam took off his Ring and pocketed it.

"I could take you all but I doubt we'd like to be running down that hill in a long line," said Liam. "So I can take two and Harry can take one under his Cloak. Fair warning, we'd have to be holding hands."

"I'm not holding hands with you," said Ron. "I'll go with Harry."

"One problem, my Cloak's in a hatch behind a statue of a humped witch," said Harry. "We'd have to go get it, Ron. You three can head down already. Wait for us there."

They didn't have to wait too long for Harry and Ron. They came bounding down the hill a few minutes after he and the girls arrived; Liam could tell because their feet would occasionally appear as they ran toward them. Liam knocked on the door as Harry pulled his cloak off him and Ron.

"Wha' in the name of Merlin are you guys doin' here?" asked Dreagon as he opened the door. "We told yeh not ter come!"

"We're here for support," Liam said quickly. "Now, can you let us in, we're not supposed to be out here."

Dreagon stepped aside and, as they walked in, shut the door quickly.

"Blimey! What're you doin' here?" asked Hagrid. "We told yeh not ter come – you did tell them not ter come?" he asked Dreagon.

"Clearly," said Dreagon.

They were shocked to see that Hagrid was not crying. He looked like a man who did not know where he was or what to do. This helplessness was worse to watch than tears.

"Oh well ..." said Hagrid. "Wan' some tea?" His great hands were shaking as he reached for the kettle.

"Where's Buckbeak, Hagrid?" said Hermione hesitantly.

"I – I took him outside," said Hagrid, spilling milk all over the table as he filled up the jug. "He's tethered in me pumpkin patch. Thought he oughta see the trees an' – an' smell fresh air – before –"

Hagrid's hand trembled so violently that the milk jug slipped from his grasp and shattered all over the floor.

"Let me, Rubi," said Dreagon, setting off to clean up the mess, but it didn't seem he was taking the news well, either. He shook just as much as Hagrid did.

"Do you want me to help, Dreagon?" asked Hermione. She and Tessa fell to his aid.

"Yeh really shouldn' have come," said Hagrid and he dropped into a chair.

"Look, we don't care what happens to us," said Ron.

"Wadd'yeh goin' ter do? Rope the executioner ter a tree an' tape his mouth shut?" Hagrid asked.

"That's actually a pretty good idea," said Liam. He hoped to brighten up the mood just a little.

"No, Liam, Cornel'll have yer head!" said Hagrid. "There's nothin' yeh can do. Yer mum an' dad, Liam, they helped a lot but it wasn' enough. Yeh better be off now, Dumbledore, Glumberry and the Committee'll be here soon."

"Come on, there's got to be more we can do, we –" he stopped abruptly. Something started twisting in his arm, like a string or rod. He didn't know what but whatever it was made his arm incredibly uncomfortable.

"What's wrong with yer arm?" Hagrid asked.

He had been shaking it vigorously in hope that it would get rid of the feeling.

"Nothing," said Liam. "Look, I can get my mom and dad down her –"

"No! They've done enough!" said Hagrid.

"Come on, there's got to be something more that we could do," said Harry. "Dumbledore and Glumberry –"

"They've tried," said Hagrid. "They've got no power ter overrule the Committee. They told 'em Buckbeak's all right, but they're scared ... Yeh know what Lucius Malfoy's like ... threatened 'em, I expect ... an' the executioner, Macnair, he's an old pal o' Malfoy's ... but it'll be quick an' clean ... an' we'll be beside him ..."

"That's unacceptable!" said Liam, who shook his hand again; the feeling began to irk him. "I'm not going to let Malfoy win, and I'm sure everyone here agrees with me that they don't deserve the satisfaction of seeing you suffer."

"We told yeh, there's nothing more you can do," said Dreagon. "The Headmasters will be down here when – you know – when it happens – said they'd want to be here for Hagrid –" he choked back a sobbed. Buckbeak was Hagrid's pet, but Dreagon took this just as hard as he did.

"We'll stay here with you," said Hermione, who began to cry. "We'll stay here until it's done."

"No. Yeh're ter go back up ter the castle. We told yeh, we don' wan' yeh watchin'. An' yeh shouldn' be down here anyway ... If they catch yeh out without permission, Harry, yeh'll be in big trouble."

"Oh no!" said Hagrid, and he stood, knocking the table as he fumbled to his feet. "They're comin' ..."

Out of nowhere, a rat skittered across the table.

"I don't believe it!" said Hermione.

" _Scabbers!"_ Ron said and he grabbed him by the tail before he could run off. "What are you doing here, Scabbers."

He grabbed the struggling rat and held him up to the light. Scabbers looked dreadful. He was thinner than ever, large tufts of hair had fallen out leaving wide bald patches, and he writhed in Ron's hands as though desperate to free himself.

"It's okay, Scabbers!" said Ron. "No cats! There's nothing here to hurt you!"

"They're getting closer," said Hagrid. He was trembling. "Yeh gotta go – now – quickly, they mustn' find yeh here!"

Liam fingered his ring as Ron put Scabbers in his chest pocket. If they needed to use it, it was at the ready.

"Off yeh go!" said Dreagon, hustling them to the door into their back garden. This all seemed like a dream, how could this be happening? The feeling didn't go away when he saw Buckbeak a few yards away, tethered to a tree behind Hagrid's pumpkin patch. Buckbeak seemed to know something was happening. He turned his sharp head from side to side and pawed the ground nervously.

He suddenly felt guilty – it hadn't been as bad as usual – had Buckbeak known that he would soon die?

"Off yeh go – and don' look back – go! Don' think abou' comin' back, it'll be bad enough with yeh in trouble –" Dreagon pushed them off and they broke into a run. Liam pulled out his ring, slipped it on and took ahold of Hermione and Tessa's hands as Harry pulled his cloak over him and Ron.

Slowly, Harry, Ron, Liam, Tessa and Hermione set off silently around Hagrid's house. As they reached the other side, the front door closed with a sharp snap.

"Good evening ..." came Dumbledore's voice, and they could see his shadow in the window.

"Please, let's hurry," Hermione whispered, her hand shaking. "I can't stand it, I can't bear it ..."

They started up the sloping lawn toward the castle. The sun was sinking fast now; the sky had turned to a clear, purple-tinged grey, but on the other side there was a ruby-red glow.

Ron stopped dead.

"Oh, Ron, please," Hermione begged.

"It's Scabbers – he won't – stay put –"

They heard the door open and shut close. Men's voices followed after. Hermione's grip on his hand tightened.

"Ron, please –"

"Ron, get that rat of yours under control!" Liam demanded for both the sake of Hermione and his hand.

"Spare 'im! He's bin like family ter Hagrid an' me! Please!"

" _Ron!"_

"Scabbers, stay _put!"_ Ron tried wrestling his rat back into his pocket. "Shut it, you! You're making noise!"

The rat was squealing wildly, but not loudly enough to cover up the sounds drifting from Hagrid's garden. There was chattering male voices, a silence, and then, without warning, the unmistakable swish and thud of an axe.

Hermione would have broken Liam's hand.

"T-they – they _did_ it –" she whispered. "I don't believe it – they did it."

"Hermione –" Liam said weakly but she broke down. Tessa made to console her, but the moment she let go of his hand the irksome feeling surged through his arm again, greater than before. Liam clenched his hand; nothing he did made it disappear.

Then suddenly a white-hot pain shot through his arm, and a blinding, bright light pricked his eyes. He blinked back the spots that appeared out of nowhere and peered at his hand, which tensed to a point that it shook. The feeling came back and, together with the pain, Liam saw something appear just under his palm ... bubbling on his skin ... something black and strange.

"Liam?" that voice was distant and secluded ... was is Harry? "Liam?"

He looked up at his cousin, unsure whether he could see him or not, but as his eyes lay on him, a loose sensation let flow in his nose and he fell.

The dizziness hit him, and everyone moved slowly. Harry fell to his side in a blur, pulled the ring off his finger, and then ripped off his cloak. Liam turned his arm so that his cousin could see what was happening, but he lost sense of everything and fell into darkness ...

When Liam woke up next the first thing he looked at was his wrist, and the feeling he got was inconclusive. On it, just under his palm, was a scorpion in dark print like a tattoo. He felt a mixture of fear, dread and anger bubbling in his stomach. What was going to happen next? How long did he have to live? They should have worked faster! They should have looked for Scorpiosting and killed him before they could allow this to happen!

 _When did this get so out of control that he started to believe Scorpiosting was behind this whole thing?_ He was a million years old, how could he be alive. This sickness was just making him paranoid.

"Second time today you've managed to scare the living daylights out of me, Junior," said his father. He was been beside him, and his mother on the other. Harry, Ron, Tessa and Hermione lined behind them, worry riddled on all their faces.

"I fainted again, didn't I?" he tried to make it sound like a joke and not like he had just been through the scariest escapade ever.

"And your nose started bleeding," said Mr Clark. "And ... you also got bitten."

"I gathered ..." said Liam, looking at his arm just in case it was all an illusion. Seeing it again just cooked up the feelings again. "So ... what happens now?" His voice broke, he tried to bite it back.

His parents shook their heads.

"We don't know ..." his mother said, and she broke down. "We have _no idea_ what will happen next!"

She sobbed in his arms and Liam had to admit he didn't feel too far off from doing it himself. He didn't want to die ... Looking around he saw his friends didn't want him do, either. His father looked uncomfortably distressed, as if he was trying to cry and not to cry at the same time. Hermione and Tessa had no problem in choosing between the two. Tears streamed down both their faces. Ron, whose chest pocket was wriggling, looked extremely worried and Harry fought against a heavy chest. His cousin fought back the tears; he could clearly see that which only made him want to cry more.

And then a menacingly shallow laugh cackled through the air. It was deep and thundering and incredibly familiar.

" _Such distress ..."_ it laughed. _"If only there was a way to stop it ... I grow impatient and trust me when I say I will not hesitate to kill every sick pupil in the ward of Hogwarts if a Muggleborn is not brought to me by midnight!"_

Midnight. That's when he would die.


	9. Von Seiler's Theory

CHAPTER EIGHT

Von Seiler's Theory

After three weeks of no response from his parents, Liam began to worry that something may have happened to them. Harry still wasn't allowed in Hogsmeade, and Liam's cough made his throat raw with pain. He was sorely tempted to take the double dosage without his parents' permission, which would have landed him in trouble if they ever found out, which would be likely if Hermione knew his current situation.

He was coughing more than he was breathing, and he was quite sure that wasn't very healthy. And now he was absolutely certain that other students were sick, too, he was just hoping that none of them got sick because of him. Because there were all ill, and not wary and tired like the matrons insisted, Liam could only tell himself that his theory was true. The man that visited them a month ago had caused an illness to sweep across the very halls of Hogwarts. Which only meant that it wasn't Peeves tricking them, which concluded to the fact that the school was in danger if the sacrifice of a Muggleborn student wasn't made.

As though this wasn't enough, rumour spread that the presumably permanently sealed chest from History of Magic suddenly opened. Not only that, but people were refusing to believe that Peeves wasn't the one who terrorised them all during dinner that night, and that Scorpiosting's contaminated blood encrusted along the brim of the chest was what caused the sickness that plagued nearly every student in the school.

Liam, of course, kept with his beliefs. Although the theory of the contaminated blood causing this sickness was accurate –– Scorpiosting _had_ died from a sickness himself –– he still believed that that man from that night was the reason behind this. He hadn't heard of a wizard who can cast an entire school disease-stricken, but he knew that, in some weird, odd concept that he would probably never understand, it was likely. After all, he had to put up with the whole 'splitting of worlds' thing his father had mysteriously accomplished, and he still hadn't understood _that._

Liam was sure that he was dealing with way too many problems, too many for a thirteen-year-old to experience. Something might have happened to his parents ... an eery sickness doomed the school ... some poor Muggleborn student might be sacrificed to an unknown man (for all Liam knew, he could have just been a voice) ... the Scorpion Chest –– he decided to name it that –– might be opened and people believe Scorpiosting's blood is causing a sickness ... _I feel like every other thirteen-year-old boy,_ thought Liam. _What happened to trying not to die?_

He joked to Harry, at the end of last year, that he was going to avoid nearly dying, but he solemnly meant it. His first year at a magical school for wizards, he was nearly blasted to bits by the former Minister for Magic, Ronan Droge. He could remember that like it was yesterday. It was one of the most horrifying experiences of his life.

Ronan Droge was the face of the ministry. Everyone loved him. He was extremely skilled at Charms –– he once demonstrated a very accurate way to repel a curse that could make you do anything at will. He was incredibly charming and good-looking. Behind his slick black hair, attractive smile, and glistening black eyes, nobody could see the darkness he held within.

Ten years he held a grudge, and he was willing to spill blood for it ... all for the cause of a man who would've one day ruled a world of fear if it had not been for that one year old child on the night of October 31.

He pretended to be Liam's friend, locked away his parents ... all of this to ensure that the dark lord Valindor would rise again.

He hadn't known his parents then. A sad thought considering they were just about the greatest bunch of people he'd ever met. Fun, quirky and so alike him that he thought it was too good to be true. Especially his father. His mother always remarked on how Thomas Clark was a bigger, older version of Liam; loud, noisy and annoyingly kind-hearted. Liam couldn't quite agree on the kind-hearted part. He'd never been in a situation where he would have needed to be too kind that it became annoying.

The second attempt not to die was last year, trying in his best efforts to save both him and his cousin from being basilisk dinner. He took extreme risks, but at that moment he felt as though it would all be worth it. Apart from that, he spent most of that year fearing that his godfather would suddenly turn up and, like his father had once implied, 'blast his head off' — a wonderful incentive to throw at your child. He didn't show his fear, but in his mind he was rolling over on the floor, sucking his thump and hoping that Venus would die along the way. But he turned up anyway, and it was for reasons he never could have imagined; to tell him that he _wasn't_ going to kill him.

This had him thinking about Sirius Black. Perhaps he was innocent, like Venus. Perhaps he escaped Azkaban just to tell them that he was his godfather and that he wanted them to know the truth. What are the chances, right?

That night he had been doing Defence Against the Dark Arts homework for Lupin and Venus. Harry was heartily waiting for the completed work, so that he could put it in his own words when Liam was done. He and Ron kept Liam company, Hermione and Tessa were chatting in a corner over their own homework –– or was it piles and piles of documents? Liam wouldn't have been able to tell the difference. They had so much homework that he had thought they may have left it for the last day. Knowing Tessa, he knew it was highly unlikely, and if Hermione was anything like her, then leaving homework for the last moment probably didn't exist in their world.

"Are you anywhere near done?" asked Ron.

"Ron, I started this half an hour ago," said Liam, a little annoyed now. He hadn't counted, but if he did, Ron had probably asked that question a number of twenty times since he started. "And C.S Eckhart has an explicitly diverse thinking-span." He tapped his opened copy of _A Simple Quick-Move Defensive Skill_ with the end of his quill _._ Every time he opened it, he felt like he was going to read an entire storybook, with a plot and everything. Each topic only took about four pages, but they were chockfull of paragraphs and the writing was incredibly small. Liam nearly dosed off a couple of times whilst reading it, until, of course, he would hit something like _'could kill you with one touch'_ or _'has a very poisonous bite'._

"You bored?" asked Harry, mindlessly throwing around his faulty Sneakoscope.

"Incredibly," groaned Liam.

Harry sat up. "Have you ever wandered about the school halls at night?" he asked.

"Multiple times," said Liam.

"All right, that's not what I meant ... _would_ you like to wander around the school at night?" asked Harry.

"Sure. Why not?" he shut his book and packed away his things. "Although, I don't think it's a good idea telling brainiac one and brainiac two." He glanced over at Hermione and Tessa, and then he put his hand in his pocket, running his finger along the rim of his ring.

"They'd be too busy to notice us anyway," said Ron. He stood next to Harry, who now held his Invisibility Cloak. He wondered how long he was staring at the girls for Harry to quickly run off upstairs to get it. "Come on."

Walking under the cloak seemed like such a risk. Ron and Liam were both taller than Harry, and beginning to get too tall for the cloak, too. Their legs weren't covered, and Liam knew Filch and Gray wouldn't be fooled by three random pairs of feet, treading around the halls of Hogwarts. He didn't know where the negative thinking came from. Perhaps he just missed his ring, which could render himself and anyone he touched invisible ... much more reliable than Harry's cloak.

"What are we expecting to gain out of this?" asked Liam.

"I hear that magical chest from History ... you know the one everyone says suddenly opened? Yeah, someone told me that it's being held in a chamber near Von Seiler's office," said Ron. "Wanna go check if the thing's actually opened?"

"Where's Von Seiler's office?" asked Liam.

"Dungeons, of course," said Ron. "Might be a vegetarian vampire, but he still keeps the same dark themes."

"Shouldn't it be locked away like how the professors locked away the Philosopher's Stone?" asked Harry. Liam didn't know what he meant by that, but he knew, at least, what the Philosopher's Stone was and that Nicholas Flamel was its creator. "Considering that conspiracy theory about it causing that odd sickness."

"Why does everyone think that the chest caused the sickness?" asked Liam.

"Because it's surrounded by Scorpiosting's sick blood, isn't that enough proof?" asked Harry.

"The culprit is that man that came to warn us at dinner ... you know, the one everyone thought was Peeves?" said Liam.

"What makes you so sure. I mean, Peeves hasn't been seen since the Fat Lady fled," said Ron. That was true, and Sir Cadogen had taken her place for the time being.

"'What makes me so sure'? Perhaps the whole _give me a Muggleborn at the cost of Hogwarts_ thing?" said Liam. "Perhaps the whole intention of killing thing. Peeves is _bloody_ annoying, I can tell you that. He jokes around and pulls pranks, but I don't think he'd intend to harm a student ... or joke about it either."

"But what has happened according to that man's message?" asked Ron.

"Are you really asking that?" Liam questioned. _"'Hogwarts will become ill" ..._ ring a bell?" and he coughed to make his point, although it still had its painful factors clawing his throat raw.

"The sickness?" asked Ron. "I've heard of many great wizards but I've never been told of a wizard who can make an entire school sick."

"It makes sense, though, doesn't it?" asked Liam. How could they possibly think a chest could cause a sickness? Even if it did have the blood of a man who had an undefined disease, all it was was a hallow golden casket, padlocked by six chains with a scorpion crest engraved on it in black. Now a man _telling_ you that your school will become sick, that's just obvious. "A man tells us that the school will fall ill, the next moment almost every student is running up to the hospital wing for a checkup."

"But I wouldn't have thought that the school 'falling ill' actually meant that the students would fall ill ..." said Ron.

"It adds up to the same thing, anyway. Sicknesses cause pestilence ... which ends up in death. If the public gets ahold of the news that the Hogwarts students are sick by an undefined disease, then that builds up a bad reputation for the school. Eventually parents will stop their kids from coming back, and the less the students, the less the money, thus the teachers get a low pay ... some'll leave to join other schools with a better pay and no one will want to sign up for the school because of its bad reputation. That causes a short range of curriculum because of the shortage of teachers, and when the school gets an inspection, this will force the Ministry to shut us down ... 'ill' is a metaphor _and_ a real event, according to that man. Either way, we die and the school dies with it."

"I didn't think you could think like that," said Harry, nearly stumbling over Liam's feet. "For a moment there, you sounded a little like Hermione."

"Well that's enlightening ..." murmured Liam, sarcastically. He didn't want to relate to Hermione in any way. "In any fact, homework goes a long way. It journeys through a terribly boring process that makes you think differently ..."

If it were two years ago, Liam would have agreed with that without even hesitating, but now that he's gotten used to the normals issues of 'read over Kappas on page sixty four' or 'figure out a potion solution to prevent a swelling reaction with the ingredients wormwood, lionfish spines and lethe river water', he enjoyed it in some odd, weird manner. In any fact, he'd rather get it out of the way than stress over it.

 _BANG!_

"What was that?" asked Ron.

They were near Von Seiler's office, by the dungeons. A door was open nearby, and for a moment they thought that was Von Seiler's office, but they saw a strange, dull greyish green glow emitting from it.

They shuffled forward, careful not to make much sound when walking. They reached the door, and was shocked when they saw who was inside.

"So, I guess it's true," said Adrian McElroy. "But the question is ... is it the source?"

"Dunno, but at least we know the truth, now," said Draco Malfoy. "Although, I would've paid a lot to see that stupid poltergeist suffer."

"Halt! Who goes there!" came the croaky voice of either Argus Filch or Diedrich Gray.

"Hide!" snapped Draco.

Filch and Gray came bustling along the corridor, towards Harry, Ron and Liam. Draco shoved Adrian into a nearby wardrobe and closed the door behind him. Filch hurried past Harry, Ron and Liam with Mrs Norris purring on his shoulder, but Gray had stopped where they stood, as though he could sense their presence.

They all caught their breath. Ron and Liam, who were obviously the reason the cloak didn't quite reach the floor, hastily bent their knees so that they could be completely invisible. Harry felt nervous. In this formation, they could barely walk without revealing themselves, he just hoped Gray wouldn't step forward for them to need to walk.

Gray stood there, eyeing the empty air in front of him. He was the least bit attractive. Like Filch, he had protuberant shoulders and a hunchback – it didn't make it hard for him to lean forward, it actually made him look like he was about to topple over. He had a terribly baggy and doughy face, with bulging, milky white eyes – like he were blind – and sunken, veiny cheeks. His hair was balding and grey, and his nose drooped like dried candle wax. Gray's bottom lip quivered, which oddly fortified his ominous glare.

His robes were too big to fit him, they draped him like a shawl of darned and patched fabric. Beneath it, clasped by a knobby, shuddering hand, was a gloomily lit lantern. The flame was barely enough to illuminate Gray's face, all it did was cast a dark shadow on his face, which didn't exactly help ease the mood.

Harry could feel the cloak moving. For a moment he thought Gray had grabbed it and was about to pull it off, then he realised that Ron and Liam's knees were about to give in. Harry looked at his cousin, who was motioning back, as if he meant to tell him that they needed to tread away and out of sight, and soon before either Gray realised that they had been there under and Invisibility Cloak, or Ron and Liam would fall.

"Ah, look what we have here, Diedrich," said Filch, stomping out of the chamber, holding Draco and Adrian by their robes. Gray had finally looked away. Harry, Ron and Liam used this as an opportunity to start walking. "Two Slytherins ... Mr Malfoy and Mr McElroy will have a wonderful reunion with Professor Snape and Professor Wolverhampton."

Harry, Liam and Ron shuffled back with difficulty; Ron and Liam's knees were beginning to pain and shake more. They were getting farther and farther away from Filch and Gray, but the more they thought about getting caught, the more oblivious they became of their surroundings. The soles on their shoes skidded against the ground, occasionally making squeaky noises, and then suddenly they toppled over something and landed right on their stomachs.

They heard footsteps clapping their way. Harry felt something knotting inside him stomach, and he looked up. Filch and Gray stood above them, throwing a toothy grin.

"Gotcha!" croaked Gray's nasally voice. Gray picked up Harry and Liam, and Filch got Ron. "What do we have here? Three Gryffindors ... Potter, Clark and Weasley ... oh, you've got it this time –"

"Boys, there you are. I was beginning to worry," said a voice.

They all looked around. Behind them stood one of the last people Harry would have thought of to save them: Professor Von Seiler. His pale face was cast under a shadow from the illuminating light from his office. He was wearing a blue nightgown with a matching nightcap.

"Professor Von Seiler?" said Filch. "They're with you?"

"Yes – I arrange for them to have an extra lesson with me. This was unfortunately the only time we could meet, if you can understand that," explained Von Seiler. "Forgive them if they were a little sceptical, they weren't very comfortable about walking around the school, especially the dungeons, knowing that the two of you were on the prowl. I told them, should they ever bump into you on the way, just ask you to report them to me, and I'll sort it out from there. So, if you could kindly unhand them, they don't mean to break any rules."

Gray and Filch let go of Ron, Harry and Liam.

"And what about Mr Malfoy and Mr McElroy?" asked Filch, stepping aside so that Von Seiler could see Draco and Adrian – both of whom had a very terrified expression on their faces. "I don't suppose you wouldn't court students from opposing houses in a catchup lesson, would you?"

"There are no _opposing_ houses in Hogwarts, unless you were referring to inter-house activities such as Quidditch or Ayers. We're not competing for anything under academic terms," chided Von Seiler. "But otherwise, no I have nothing to do with Mr Malfoy and Mr McElroy. Please escort them to the Potionsmasters' office, confirm with them what their punishment shall be and then ensure that they make it back to their common room, please."

Draco and Adrian made a face, and Filch and Gray turned to them.

"Come on, boys, to Snape and Wolverhampton it is ..." Filch and Gray pushed Malfoy and McElroy forward, into the dark void of the corridors. Harry, Ron and Liam watched them leave.

"Would you like to come in, boys?" Harry's stomach knotted again; Professor Von Seiler didn't sound too happy. He looked at them sternly, the shadow on his face only heightened his features. Harry looked at Liam to see if this was just how the professor normally acted or if he, Harry, should be fearing the prospect – considering he knew Von Seiler for longer – but Liam gulped.

Harry, Ron and Liam followed Von Seiler into his office. It was warmly lit, for the undead, and they felt oddly relaxed. The atmosphere made them easy and less anxious, it almost felt like being in the Gryffindor common room, except smaller with no comfortable armchairs or a large, magnificent fireplace.

"Have a seat, boys," ordered Von Seiler, and immediately, as though on cue, three chairs appeared in front of Von Seiler's desk.

Harry felt like he had walked into a mini library, with three, wide oak bookshelves reaching from the ceiling to the ground, filled with tomes alike. On the top of each bookshelf was a title separating them into categories (one was entitled **WIZARDS HISTORY** , the other two were **MUGGLE HISTORY).** The only free wall was near the door, but torches occupied that space, creating the warmth of Von Seiler's large office. Above them, in the middle of the upright wooden shelves, hung a chandelier with small flames ablaze in holsters. In the corner was Von Seiler's trunk, and in the middle of the bookshelf-fortress, on a blood red, furry mat, was his desk.

Behind it was a throne-like chair, with red velvet padding. On the desk was a large hardcover book that Von Seiler tapped before regarding one of his bookshelves. Beside the book was a small pot with a big plant sprouting from it. It had a spindly stem and large leaves with vascular tissue tinted red. There were beanpods on the leaves, some were revealing a pearly-white bean.

Harry, Ron and Liam took a seat behind Von Seiler's desk while he scanned one of the books under the _Muggle_ _History_ category.

"Apologies, I've nearly completed my last Muggle history book," said Von Seiler, pulling out another large book. "I've been dabbling in Muggle history, lately. Fascinating stuff. I found the occurrence of World War II very captivating. It related much to the Dark Age Revolution and the age of Herod Grindelwald. Him and his Mentislatro conducted a medieval torture system to annihilate the Demenamagi, much like what the Nazis did to the Jews, except the Demenamagi weren't gassed. You shouldn't worry about the Dark Age Revolution. It isn't in the third year syllabus. You shall know more about it, should you decide on keeping History of Magic as a subject for your OWLs."

Suddenly, a pungent smell invaded their noses, like rotten eggs, bad fish and stagnant water. Harry, Ron and Liam found themselves cringing, pinching their noses. Von Seiler picked a book and set it on the table.

"I think the Industrial Revolution should do next," said Von Seiler, seating himself. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry. The Mooncalf dung occasionally produces a foul smell. I'm undead, so it has no effect on me whatsoever, but on a mortal being, I could imagine it might have a dreadful odour."

Harry nearly gagged, the smell penetrated through his blocked nose.

"Don't worry, the smell should be gone in a matter of time. This, by the way, is a Sopophorous plant. Hagrid and Dreagon gave this to me last term for Christmas. They said they had an extra growing in their garden, and that there was a Mooncalf they were tending near the Hippogriff stables. They said they would supply its dung whenever I should need it," said Von Seiler, pointing at the plant on his desk. "It's a rare specimen and sprouts in gloomy marshlands. It grows well if fertilised in Mooncalf dung, and produces Sopophorous beans, which resembles much of an overgrown mistletoe berry. The Sopophorous bean has very powerful, magical properties that are very good for potion-making and can be an excellent component in bourbon creams."

"Bourbon creams?" asked Liam, whose hand left his nose. "Aren't you a Veggie Vampire?"

"The correct term, Mr Clark, is Sampiro Olus, taken from the ancient Dwarvish language, Pumilio," illustrated Von Seiler. "And being a Veggie Vampire doesn't restrict me from consuming other delicacies, so long as they have vegetative supplements. Like my bourbon creams contain the Sopophorous beans. From time to time the kitchen sends me shortbread fingers with Wormseed essence and a rich Mallowsweet mousse. It's a wonderful dessert to have for my kind. I also get a nice course of sage-peppered Snarfalump, a side of Puffapod stew with a tasty Gurdyroot gravy."

Von Seiler stopped abruptly; he probably saw Ron, Liam and Harry's puzzled expressions.

"I – sense that something's bothering you?" asked Von Seiler, picking, from his plant, one of the pearly-white beans and popping it in his mouth.

Harry looked at Liam and Ron and then asked the question they were all keen to know, "Why'd you save us from Filch and Gray even though you knew that we were breaking the rules? And Why not save Malfoy and McElroy, too?"

"I usually don't approve of students wondering about after hours, but I made an exception for you three. Punishment follows those with whom possess crude and poor behaviour," said Von Seiler, simply. "Mr Malfoy and Mr McElroy are among the students I teach that receive an attitude with very little affection. Adrian's sister, Dmitri, is a little better. I manage to tolerate her because she does the work. And not only does she do the work, she applies herself. She's an excellent student with a rotten personality, sorry to say. I sometimes wonder whether it's just an image she puts on to keep her out of peer pressure, but what do I know."

He didn't seem the least bit ashamed of what he said, he kept a blank expression, robbing the Sopophorous leaves of their beans.

"Now, you three are naughty, I have to admit, but what some students fail to understand is that you only need a small bit of effort to apply what knowledge you have on the specific subject, and you three possess that superbly," commented Von Seiler. Harry couldn't stop himself from thinking that most of his marks were coming from Liam, whose work he was allowed to copy. "Some of your marks aren't up to your standards, but your average woke rate has shown your great understanding of the subject."

Von Seiler looked at Liam, a look of pride gleaming in his eyes. Harry wondered if Von Seiler somehow knew that Harry and Ron's work was Liam's, just written out differently in their handwriting.

"I never actually got to thank your father for gracing us with that ancient artefact, Liam," said Von Seiler. It took Harry a while before he noticed he was talking about Scorpiosting's golden chest. "The chest, as well as the blood congealed around the brim, has quite an expansive history. I do detect a genuine, ardent aura from you for the subject, Mr Clark, which is why I would like to offer my understanding of Scorpiosting's chest to you. Would you mind?"

"Not at all," said Liam. Harry never knew Liam liked History of Magic. Perhaps it was because he enjoyed Von Seiler's teaching, Harry did too, but he knew Binns's absence would not last long which meant that someday the boring lectures on Goblin Rebellion would start very soon.

"I'm honoured," said Von Seiler. He cleared his throat. "Scorpiosting's blood seal is particularly curious. I've never seen a stranger occurrence in history." He was now talking directly to Liam. Harry wanted to catch on, too. He had to remember what blood seals were, a permanent locking charm used to seal an object with important means to a person via blood. "Now, through my knowledge that blood seals last as long as the caster, I became very interested in learning what Scorpiosting did to sustain _his_ blood seal. I came to two conclusions: either Scorpiosting managed to stay alive after all these years ... or he dabbled in the darkest of arts, possibly those that haven't even been discovered yet, in order to nourish and maintain his blood seal even after death."

"Well, a man staying alive after centuries – millennia, even – is a very ridiculous idea, sorry to say, but that doesn't mean that dabbling in the darkest of arts is the best either," said Liam.

"Exactly, Mr Clark, which is why it drove me to draw up a theory," added Von Seiler. "After all the research I have done, I developed speculation aiming towards a particularly absurd, perhaps ludicrous, claim. Forgive me if I manage to frighten you, but you were keen ..."

"Go ahead," said Liam.

Von Seiler looked apprehensive, and the fire that had once lit up his office in warm colours became sombre.

"I think that the man who spoke to Hogwarts a while ago, the one who wanted the sacrifice of a Muggleborn student, is –" Harry could see Liam's eagerness to know, as well as the level of comprehension he was putting into this. Von Seiler fell silent for a moment, as if the thought had frightened himself, but he didn't seem to be the only one.

After a minute, Liam seemed to catch onto what Von Seiler was going to say. His eyes went wide and his mouth fell open, the bleak firelight adding a gloomy feeling. Harry was beginning to figure this out on his own, and he hoped he was wrong in believing so.

"That's a pretty serious claim," said Liam.

Von Seiler didn't answer, he left them in silence for a moment, and then continued.

"The Hogwarts matrons believe that each student is 'tired' ... an unfortunate symptom to a illness called _Scorpomorbus_. It is the very same disease Scorpiosting was diagnosed with during his period of living, the very same sickness that contaminated his blood and turned it black, the very same blood that has sealed his chest shut for thousands and thousands of years," said Von Seiler. "At first I thought the man who came at dinner was the one behind it. Then rumours speculated that the chest was open, and I began to wonder ... what would happen if it _was_ open? And then it came to me."

"But – that's – that's _impossible!"_ blurted Liam. "It's impossible! How could Scorpiosting find a way to stay immortal?"

"There are some instances where a wizard could _possess_ immortality," said Von Seiler, and a dark look eclipsed his face. "Instances that have been used ... once, I think, by a dark wizard named Herpo the Foul ... alleged, I think, by two of the darkest wizards of twentieth century wizarding society. Of course, it requires a very high level of passion for Dark Arts, perhaps the most compassionate attitude toward evil sorcery. I guess the easiest way to explain something like that would be ... tearing of the soul ... containing it in an object that can only be destroyed by selective weaponry or curses."

"So ... you think that somehow Sargas Scorpiosting managed to use one of these – these _instances_ in order to gain immortality?" asked Liam.

"What I think ... is that Scorpiosting did make himself immortal. But because of the sickness he had – Scorpomorbus – he died temporarily, thus the blood seal stayed on, but his soul had been trapped in the chest, and the chest mysteriously found itself at the bottom of the ocean. Until your father's Muggle friend came along, picked it up and brought it to him. Which then, of course, made it land up at Hogwarts, its home."

"You honestly believe that a man, who is, what, two – three _million_ years old, is still _alive?"_

"I know, it brings out a very high notation of lunacy, but as insane as it sound it is very, very possible," said Von Seiler. "In ancient times, before the Dark Age Era, before even Muggleborns had rights, some warlocks were fervent practitioners of an extremely _dark_ process called 'Nusquamesse quiabmors' ... it's Pumilio again. It was a dark process used after someone has been critically and fatally injured. That person could be revived from another's death, which is what I guess Scorpiosting could be using when he asks for a Muggleborn sacrifice. It's his means to materialise, to become human again.

"If he _is_ using this method, which is something I am not supporting, and he uses this dark process to bring himself back into current society, then it means that some poor Muggleborn student in Hogwarts will be held at ransom for the fate of the school," said Von Seiler.

"Surely no one'll _give up_ a Muggleborn student," hoped Liam.

"You never know ..." said Von Seiler. "People are people. Their main aim is to protect themselves. If Scorpiosting is causing this sickness, and all he wants is a Muggleborn, then the first person this disease kills will drive people into desperation. He's trying to show us that most of us wouldn't care for the lives of those conceived in non-wizarding families. That Purebloods and Half-bloods are the superior race and that we don't need the Muggleborns. He's trying to manipulate the way we think, and it's going to work because this is something Scorpiosting excels in."

Harry thought this theory was as absurd as Liam thought it was. How could a man who lived more than one millennium still be alive? But if it were true, then they wouldn't want to be caught a little under the weather.

"Sir, may I ask," brought up Harry. Liam and Von Seiler looked at as though they forgot he was there. "What are the symptoms to Scorpiosting's sickness and why don't some people get it, would you know?"

"Err – some people are immune, some are highly susceptible. The symptoms are fatigue ... severe itching in almost every aspect of your body ... then heavy chest ... wet cough ... blocked nose and sneezing ... by then, you're probably experiencing every known flu on earth ... and then ... then you get bitten ..."

" _Bitten?"_ asked Ron.

"Why yes, bitten," continued Von Seiler. "You get bitten and marked by the 'Scorpion Sting' ... it's the evident mark that you are soon to die ... I read it in Scorpiosting's notes. A small scorpion is etched into your skin – your wrist – and it causes a great deal of pain."

"Liam, what's wrong?" asked Ron.

Harry looked at Liam. He was staring into the desk, shocked as though it were a ghost. He looked on the verge of crying and he had an expression on that Harry had never seen on him before. He looked broken, torn ... it made him look so un-Liam-like that Harry wondered if it was actually him.

"Liam ...?" Harry shook him. He looked up at his cousin, his broken expression prominent. "What's the matter?"

"I've experienced every single symptom of this sickness _except_ the Scorpion Sting," said Liam. It dawned on Harry; his father was given Scorpiosting's chest, a couple days later he falls sick and his parents give him potions that seem to have no affect on him but to prevent it from being contagious. _"I've_ got Scorpiosting's sickness."


	10. Grim Defeat

CHAPTER NINE

Grim Defeat

"But how could that be possible?" asked Hermione.

Harry was surprised. He was beyond surprised. He thought he might have been dreaming, fantasising about an event he never thought would happen. The night was calm, the common room was as warm as ever and Liam and Hermione actually sat in one space, having a normal conversation without having a go at each other.

Hermione sat beside Tessa, who were both across from Liam on the double couch. He lay on his armchair, his legs dangling off one of the arms and his head resting on a pillow. Harry occupied the other chair whilst Ron sat on one of the arms of the long couch, trying to give Scabbers his rat tonic.

Liam was telling Hermione and Tessa about their little visit to Von Seiler's office. He even added in the professor's odd plant diet, although Harry supposed that was because he was trying to ease the mood, preparing them for what was coming next.

Liam was rattled after hearing what Von Seiler had to say. He denied it, but Harry could see the dull glint of fear in his eyes when they left. He barely said anything on the way back and for the following day, too. However, Harry couldn't blame him. Although he didn't believe it himself, Liam thought he had Scorpiosting's sickness. Harry rebuked it because the theory was ridiculous and the thought of an unknown sickness running through his veins was equally absurd.

But he rambled on, sharing everything he was told with Hermione and Tessa – who, of course, were very interested in this new piece of information.

"But –" Tessa stammered. There was a look on her face that Harry had never seen before. She looked lost, for once, and confused, as though she couldn't understand what Liam was trying to say. "How could a man who's lived two, three millennia still be alive?"

"Von Seiler said there were _instances_ where wizards could – 'tear up their souls' and 'conceal them in an object' to keep them immortal ... I dunno what that means or how it could be done, but if it's possible, then it's possible," said Liam.

"Well, _I_ don't believe him and I don't trust his theory, either," said Hermione.

"I don't think _anybody_ would trust his theory," said Liam. "It's a claim that the man at the feast a month ago is a two–millennia–year–old lunatic with a twisted view of society. A claim that states Scorpiosting is the guy plaguing all these poor people with a disease that could only be cured if a Muggleborn dies as his sacrifice. How could anyone trust that! They'd have to be barking mad!"

"If you think about it, it _does_ make sense ..." said Tessa. "I mean, if you look at it this way: what staff member would want to intentionally harm a student, threaten to plague the school and then refer to Muggleborns as 'Mudbloods'?"

"Snape and Wolverhampton," mumbled Ron.

There was a strange sensation that hit Harry in the chest, and he could tell Liam had it, too; he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Snape was in Slytherin and he hated them, but Harry has never heard anyone call the Muggleborns 'Mudblood' apart from the Malfoys, McElroys and the man – Scorpiosting – at dinner.

"No, I don't think so," said Liam, still sitting uncomfortably in his chair. "Snape and Wolverhampton don't like us, I get that, but I doubt they'd have the same hatred for the Muggleborns, even if they are Slytherin." He seemed to think for a while, like he was trying to pin a blame on them, and then he continued. "I think the two people they hate most is Harry and I, and I can't really imagine Wolverhampton wanting to intentionally hurt me. He made that pretty clear two years ago."

Tessa looked at Liam with an apprehensive look. It was almost like she was trying to determine whether Liam was going to add anything more, perhaps something he hadn't yet expressed with anyone apart from her. Liam, however, kept quiet and so did Tessa.

"Yeah, and in any fact, Snape said he was trying to save me from Quirrell," Harry added.

Harry noticed that Liam didn't mention his insane idea of him being diagnosed by Scorpiosting's sickness. Harry figured it was because he probably didn't want to scare the girls more from hearing 'Scorpiosting's back from the dead, just so you know, and he's causing a sickness that will soon kill us all'. Either that or he was still a little shaken about it himself, or perhaps he finally saw that the idea was too absurd to believe.

Harry didn't believe that fact, either. The moment Liam said that he had experienced every symptom except the odd mark of death – the Scorpion Sting – he had immediately thought Von Seiler had driven him mad. After all, it was a long conversation of possibilities that could never happen.

"Okay," said Tessa, "whatever the fact, I refuse to believe that someone as old as Scorpiosting is back from the dead and plaguing the school with a sickness for the price of a Muggleborn student."

Quidditch and Ayers practice had been going well, lately, considering both Gryffindor teams still found it incredibly difficult to play on one side of the field apiece. Fortunately the Quidditch and Ayers players didn't have a temper, otherwise there would be more fighting than actual training. Fred and George seemed to find friends in two of the Ayers Batters, Brent Shaw (a burly, stocky sixth year with very little brown hair and arms that could probably hit a brick wall without any scratches) and Finn Barkley (an exceedingly pale fourth year boy whose face was sprinkled with freckles and whose arms were so thin and spindly that Harry was afraid they would break every time he would hit a Beater ball), they often had airborne swordplay with their bats whenever Oliver Wood and James Clogg weren't looking – Shaw and Barkley both had the upper hand because they were on flying shoes rather than brooms.

Wood and Clogg seemed like distant friends, as though they knew each other before the world split – which was quite impossible considering they were seven when the occurrence happened. Harry knew Clogg often made jokes that Harry didn't get, but Wood did and laughed every time, whether cheesy or plainly boring. They got along well, which opened up a lot of possibilities for the Ayers and Quidditch players to play around rather than practice.

Unfortunately that did not apply to Harry and Liam. Harry was the Snitch, so Wood kept him aside for the time being until they were all prepared to do an actual match. Liam was what they called a Runner, and apparently didn't need much practice because Clogg had him warm up the Keeper.

He would occasionally shout out some pointers as Liam was using the Base ball. Harry was sure Liam was more used to altering shooting positions because the Runner tended to spin in a different direction.

"Aim more to the middle, Clark!" Clogg yelled up to Liam whilst talking to a tall boy with tawny, yellowish-brown skin. "Right, Al –" he regarded the boy again, "there's a lot to focus on since we're playing Slytherin. You're one of the best Fielders on the squad, you and Faulkner –" he pointed at Simon Faulkner, the tall third year friend of Beck Lavery, who was dodging Beater balls with the other two Fielders – and seemed to be doing a lot better. "Murray Becker's a damned good Keeper, so we're going to need a big play to squeeze the Base passed him on Saturday. Now, Slytherin's got new Fielders – since Devon, Pattinson and Bouwer left. They're a little different – more aggressive – so they're going to try bump you out of the sky. They're the only problems. They can work as Batters and a Keeper if they had to, so we're going to work on agility today. Clark's got that all wrapped up – even if he doesn't look up for the job. So, round up the Fielders and the Batters and we're going to do a little possession game."

Harry couldn't agree more with Clogg; Liam did not look up for the job. His face became pale and the only reason behind it was that Liam was sick. It scared Harry to believe that his cousin might actually have Scorpiosting's _Scorpomorbus_ after all. It scared him even more to think that it was finally moving onto the next stage: the Scorpion Sting, the mark of death.

Harry thought of it as 'the mark of death' because it was the last few stages that told you that you were ready to die – that's how Von Seiler explained it, anyway. He mention that it 'stung' you by burning a scorpion onto your wrist. Harry imagine a black scorpion shape inked into your skin, just under your palm. He wondered how much it would have hurt to be stung by this Scorpion Sting. And then he wondered whether or not to believe Von Seiler's crazy theory.

 _Von Seiler's mad!_ Harry thought, and he absentmindedly shook his head. _Don't believe it!_ And with that he blinked his eyes and erased the thought from his head. Then suddenly, someone called his name.

"Harry! Hey, Harry!"

Harry spun around to see Beck Lavery making his way to the field.

"Look's like you're not doing anything," said Beck. "Can I join you?"

"No problem. I'd be bored if not," said Harry.

"Faster, Clark! You're not giving Woolly a proper warm up!" yelled Clogg again.

"I'm one boy, Jimmy," shouted Liam back. "It'll be easier if I had someone else here. Faulkner, perhaps?"

Harry saw Clogg spin his head around to the tall and gangling Simon Faulkner, who sped up to the three posts on his pair of winged shoes with a Base ball in hand. He joined Liam in shooting against Jean Woolly – the Keeper, who was a pretty girl that received a lot of looks from Clogg and Wood.

Liam hit the Base around with elbows, knees and shoulders, passing it to Faulkner who looked a little less impressive than Liam did. Harry was amazed at the skill he had. People often said he was good – Clogg even emphasised that by saying 'the best since the 1970s' – but Harry had never seen him play, so he couldn't see that first-hand. Looking at him now just made him wonder what difference he would have made as a Chaser on the Quidditch team. However, Harry could see that how he was playing now was not up to his standards. He was slow and delayed, which brought Harry back to Liam's sickness.

"Look at Liam! He's gonna be the top Ayers Champion when he grows up. Hope he plays for the Whisking Woodpeckers," said Beck, staring at Liam in awe. Harry didn't think Beck took into account that his own best friend was up in the air, too. "You know why they call him the best, right?"

Harry didn't answer. He didn't even know he was that good until today, how could he have known the reason behind why everyone said he was the best.

"We were a bit jealous, us Gryffindors – well back then it was Phoenixdan, but you know what I mean," said Beck. "We were rivals with Slytherin and _they_ had him!" Harry still couldn't believe that Liam was sorted into Slytherin rather. He had to keep reminding himself that the Hat considered putting _him_ in Slytherin, too. "He didn't want to be in Slytherin, Liam, but he had to deal with it. Had no friends. Blew his chances with the McElroys before the Sorting even begun. He tried befriending us, the Gryffindors ... we weren't so kind. Shunned him, really."

Harry knew that that was because of the rivalry. Gryffindor didn't want to be caught being friends with a Slytherin.

"Tessa felt pity for him, of course," Beck continued. "The two became the best of friends. Liam would never go back to his common room until he had to, neither would Tessa."

He remembered the smiles the two threw at each other a long time ago. It was like they were sharing an inside joke.

"Slytherin were on top because of Liam. Gryffindor were just behind. We just needed to beat them, and we'd win," said Beck. "We were nervous, though, because good old Liam was the best Runner around. The Runner runs, if you get that, and it tries its best to get away from the goals, but there hasn't been a ball from Liam that hasn't hit the post. It's like he predicts where its going."

Harry looked up at Liam, watching him bolt the ball towards Jean Woolly. For a moment, he half-expected the ball to redirect itself, even though knowing that it wasn't a Runner.

"He purposely lost to Gryffindor, he said," said Beck. "Played a terrible match and tried to score a Soarer so it'd look like he made an effort to beat us. Nearly froze to death just to prove to the Gryffindors that he wasn't like the Slytherins and that he didn't belong with them. He was out for two months. Luckily he had Tessa for a friend, otherwise he would have missed out on a lot of those assessments Wolverhampton gave out – I honestly think he did that just to bring Liam's marks down ... he was pretty good at the subject, Wolverhampton just refused to accept it."

Harry remembered Liam said that Wolverhampton even tried investigating whether Liam had been cheating or finding some odd way to pass his class, but never could find one.

"And then there was Ronan Droge." Harry froze. There was the name again. Ronan Droge was the name of the guy that had the power to shut Liam up. The guy Harry knew nothing about. He knew he was some type of bad influence to Liam, but he didn't know why and how he managed to diminish Liam's confidence – which was surprising because Liam had _a_ _lot_ of confidence. He saw that last year in the Chamber of Secrets. Liam had drawn the basilisk towards him instead of to Harry. "When the Minister for Magic calls up an Ayers challenge, you accept."

"Ronan Droge was the Minister for Magic?" asked Harry.

"They liked to call him the face of the Ministry, too," said Beck. "Didn't show the scumbag's second face! Anyway, he called on an Ayers challenge, that went beyond the House Cup. Said the most valued player of the winning team would be granted a special gift. Liam wasn't so easy on Gryffindor, this time, he slammed us five hundred to fifty. Though, he traded Droge's special gift for a change in place. He asked Glumberry if he could change to Gryffindor instead."

Liam _asked_ to change place, and Glumberry granted it.

"How'd Glumberry grant it. Isn't the Hat's decision final?" asked Harry.

"Yeah ... but your cousin's smart, isn't he?" asked Beck. "He told the crowd and Glumberry that the Minister's permission is a stronger will than the Hat's decision. He said Droge had the power to take him out of the school if he wanted, so with this, he traded Droge's gift for a change in place."

But that wasn't what Harry really wanted to know. He wanted to know about Ronan Droge. Liam obviously didn't like him, and Beck said he was two-faced, yet he seemed like a sports-crazed fan who gained a little pleasure out of seeing school kids play Ayers. He wanted to know who Ronan Droge was ... where he was now ... what happened to him ... what did he do that made him so two-faced?

So he turned to Beck, "And Ronan Droge? What about –"

"Potter!"

Harry cringed. He looked up at Wood, who was gesturing for him to come up and play.

"The Snitch is out! Catch it in the last half hour!"

Harry cursed under his breath, smiled at Beck and then kicked off his broomstick in search of the Snitch.

Liam was very surprised to see Snape strutting into the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. His hooked nose was in the air and his robes billowed behind him. He spun around at the front, and Liam now regretted aiming to sit there because it gave Snape various opportunities to make eye contact with him. When he'd done it the first time, his cold eyes tore through Liam's. Snape stared at him with a very intense look that said he would find a way to catch Liam out ... fortunately, it seemed, Snape hadn't heard about the last professor who tried to do so, which was odd considering they saw each other everyday.

"Good morning," said Snape, breaking eye-contact with Liam. "I –"

"Sorry I'm late, class, Professor Lupin's –"

Venus had walked in and when he saw Snape he stopped. The two of them stared at each other, their faces threatening to scowl at one another, and then Venus smiled.

" _Severus_ ... what are you doing here?" asked Venus, making his way to his desk.

"Professor Lupin has fallen sick –"

"I know that! And the question wasn't 'where's Lupin' it was what are you doing here?" asked Venus, his tone rising.

Snape hesitated for a moment.

"He _asked_ me to replace him today," said Snape with a twisted smile.

"I'm sure Remus would have more sense than to ask you, of all people, to replace him," said Venus, he was beginning to calm down. "Why didn't he ask Scarlet or Victor. I'm sure Elaine or Minerva would've been more keen. Or he could have simply left me to teach the class alone."

"Scarlet and Filius have taken their NEWT class out to the open fields on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest to practice. Victor is tending to Cuthbert and Elaine and Minerva are way too busy being deputy heads and Gryffindor heads to be a temporary Defence Against the Dark Arts professors," said Snape. "And _Remus_ must've thought some of the students still think you're an untrustworthy _killer."_

Something boiled hot in Liam's stomach; he almost stood. Snape just didn't like Venus! He knew that because it was quite clear. He'd seen the many sides of Professor Wolverhampton and he was sure Snape must've been similar, and this side that he was showing now obviously meant he didn't like Venus.

Liam was quite happy to know that many of the students were shaking their heads and saying 'Sting's cool, not a killer' and 'He and Lupin are the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers we've had.' It calmed him down to know that Venus had won them over, that he was being loved instead of being treated like an outcast and a jail breaker.

"I often receive complaints from the Slytherin house," hissed Snape. "'Expresses dark themes' ... 'Doesn't explain properly' ... Tell me, _Professor Sting,_ since when was it your ambition to teach, particularly a subject like Defence Against the Dark Arts?"

Venus glared at Snape. Liam was beginning to get annoyed at the Potionsmaster. Snape had no right to be here. He wasn't the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, even though he desperately wanted the post.

"Don't mind him, Venus," Liam spat suddenly. He saw Hermione glare at him in the corner of his eyes, and then he wondered when she'd gotten there. She wasn't there, was she? Not before now. _Focus, Liam, defend your godfather._ "When he says 'Slytherin' he means Draco Malfoy and the McElroy twins! Probably their cronies as well!"

Snape's gaze turned back to him, and his eyes were steely and cold. It was only then had he realised everyone was looking at him.

"Anymore smug replies, Mr Clark, or do you want to increase the amount of points I will be taking off from Gryffindor house?" asked Snape.

"You have _no_ right to be taking points from a class orchestrated by me!" spat Venus. "There will be no points taken off from Gryffindor. In any fact, I daresay, those Slytherins deserve it more for speaking ill of a teacher."

"They were complaints –!"

"They were _lies_ , Severus, and you know that ..." he shot Snape an angry look, and then turned to the class. "Right class, today we're going to be doing an ancient creature called the Fera. It's a –"

"I hardly think it would be very productive to introduce an animal as such without teaching the basics, Venus, why don't we start with _werewolves,"_ suggested Snape.

The colour in Venus's face drained. He gulped and gingerly turned to Snape.

"Werewolves?" asked Venus.

"Why yes, _werewolves,"_ said Snape. "You and I both know that the Fera is part of the homo-canine family. So why not teach them the basics first."

"Err – sure – okay –" stammered Venus.

"Why so nervous, Venus, I would imagine you knew quite a lot about it," said Snape. "I do remember you got a scar from one in your _glory days."_

Venus tentatively rubbed his arm whilst Snape looked directly at it. Liam hoped 'glory days' didn't mean when he was being hunted by the ministry.

"But – err – of course the Fera is part of the syllabus Remus and I put together for the first term ... werewolves we planned on tackling after Christmas, at least," stumbled Venus.

"Oh, but that's counterproductive, don't you think?" asked Snape. "Surely you would have wanted to cover up the _basics_ before you get there."

"Of course," said Venus. He stood there awkwardly, looking from Snape to the floor and rubbing his knuckles white. "Where would you like to start, _Professor Snape?"_

"Thank you for asking, Venus." Snape stepped around the desk, looked at the pieces of parchments on it, and then looked up at Venus. "It's a shame, neither you nor Remus have left any record of the work covered."

"I'm quite sure that someone like Miss Granger and Miss Williams could tell you what we've covered so far," said Venus, regarding Hermione and Tessa (Liam still couldn't figure out where and when they came).

"Boggarts," said Hermione.

"Red Caps," said Tessa.

"Kappas."

"Grindylows."

"Of course, you can expect _them_ to know," sneered Snape. "What about the rest of the class?"

"Professor Snape, I would really like to start this lesson, so if you would please either be quiet so I can, or be more than happy to leave," said Venus, with a kind sort of angry in his eyes. "Right, class, you can find werewolves on page –"

Venus began paging through the textbook.

"Three hundred and ninety-four," said Snape. Venus stopped, glared at Snape, and then turned to the page himself.

"Three hundred and ninety-four," repeated Venus, holding the textbook in his hand. "Right, now –"

"Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?" asked Snape, Venus subtly rolled his eyes at Snape, glaring at him again.

Everyone sat in silence except for Hermione and Tessa, both of whom's hands both shot straight up. Liam could feel Snape's gaze on him, so he did was he was taught, he scanned through a section of the page, looking for an answer in case he was asked to answer.

"Anyone?" Liam glanced up to see a disappointed Snape looking among the students. "Are you telling me that neither Lupin or Sting –" Venus's face paled, "hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between –"

"Please sir," said a girl with frizzy blond hair at the back of the classroom. Liam recognised her as Lisa Rivers, "we haven't gotten up to there, yet."

"And yet Professor Sting wanted to start off with something as complicating as a Fera?" asked Snape.

"Remus and I, we often like to surprise them," said Venus. "Like the Grindylows, we started off before Kappas and Red Caps, even though they come up first in the book. Now I expected to start with the Fera. Considering that odd rumour about Scorpiosting's chest, we thought we ought to do something that would fit the theme."

"And are these the 'dark themes' my Slytherin's have been complaining about?" asked Snape.

"We haven't done anything to give us nightmares, if that's what you mean," brought up Liam. "In fact, the only dark thing we've covered up was in History of Magic, not Defence Against the Dark Arts. And anyway, we're supposed to be doing _dark themes_ in Defence Against the _Dark_ _Arts."_

Liam felt reassured when the class murmured in agreement.

"Ok, Mr Clark, if you've got such a big mouth, why don't you answer the question for us?" said Snape, his eyes gave him that same hard _I'm going to catch you out_ look. "Tell us how to distinguish between a real wolf and a werewolf."

Liam hesitated for a while, just to give Snape the satisfaction of his silence; something he used to do with Wolverhampton.

"The snout of a werewolf is –"

Snape interrupted him, "I would expect you all to answer at exam standards –"

"I was getting it right!" snapped Liam.

"Silence, Mr Clark! You _will_ answer at exam standards, do you understand?"

Liam was outraged. He glared at Snape, and then he looked at Venus to assist him, but Venus gave him a very sentimental look, and then looked away to avoid eye contact with him.

"What's up to exams standards?" asked Tessa, who cast a looked at Liam, a small grin on her face. "I'm one of the smartest girls in the class and _I_ would have started the answer like that." Liam made a mental note to thank her for this later.

Liam caught a smile on Venus's face, and then he noticed how far behind he was from Snape, probably so that he wouldn't be able to tell that he was laughing at him.

"Right, class," said Venus, "why don't you all make your own notes on the werewolf – would you like that Severus –" he turned to Snape. "During the first few minutes of the next lesson, we shall test your knowledge then and perhaps you would have learned to answer up to _exam standards."_ There was a certain kind of tone to Venus's voice that sounded sardonic, and he had a smile on. It made the boiling rage in Liam lift. "Should you join us, Severus, please note that the next time I will not tolerate you taking over _my_ lesson."

"Do you not like my standards of teaching, Venus?" chided Snape.

"Me and them, yeah," he looked at the class, and then back at Snape. "Mind you be a dictator in your own classroom when it's during your own lesson. Quickly! Parchments out, do your notes. A summary on the whole section."

Everyone did so. They sat in silence and did their notes on werewolves.

When Saturday arrived the weather was absolutely terrible. It had been dark the last few days, and it drizzled from time to time, but now the skies were pouring with rain. Harry was afraid they might cancelled their match against Slytherin, but he knew that something like that would end up on the notice board, or Jimmy Clogg and Oliver Wood would have mentioned it to him, so he kitted up and, together with Liam, made his way to the fields where the rest of the team was.

"We're not playing Slytherin!" snapped Wood.

"What d'you mean?" asked Harry.

"They pulled out because of the weather – cowards!" explained Clogg. "We're playing Hufflepuff instead. That means a change in plan, Clark, the only player you need to worry about is the Runner, because he's the only good player around. The Keeper's kind of pathetic, so you can get the Runner past him easily."

"They're also complaining about their Seeker's arm," said Wood. "I'm sure you've heard about the mishap with the Hippogriff."

"Nothing's wrong with Draco's arm, it's just a scratch," said Harry.

"I know, you've been through twice that much in Quidditch alone," said Wood. "You've had a missing bone and Malfoy's complaining about his small gash. I heard his little _girlfriend's_ fretting so much about him that it's become annoying to some of the Slytherins, even."

"Who?"

"Dmitri McElroy."

"Yeah, she tends to do that," said Liam.

"What's the matter, with you, Clark, you're looking sicker than ever?" asked Clogg.

"I'm fine, Jimmy," said Liam.

"If you say so," said Clogg with a cautious look. "Well, go warm up Woolly. The match'll start soon."

Harry watched the Ayers team in a dugout that had its own stand opposite the staff. The match was nearly done and Gryffindor were winning four hundred and fifty to two fifty. Liam's skill around the field was amazing, as usual, except he often lost track of what he was doing. When he didn't have the Runner, he hovered in the air, blinking and rubbing his eyes as though he was half asleep and he was trying to stay awake.

Commentating was Lee Jordan, who seemed to know a lot more of Ayers than Harry did.

"What's Clark doing? Hufflepuff's got the Runner with only five more minutes to go!" yelled Lee Jordan when the scoreboard showed 04:59.

Liam seemed to snap out of his trance in time to see the Hufflepuff Runner zoom passed him. He chased after him.

"Clark seems to be awake now!" said Lee Jordan. "He's chasing after him, fellow Gryffindor Kiran Jones is helping."

Liam caught up with the Runner, and flew in the direction of the Runner, but the ball was thrown into the hands of a Fielder. Liam spun around in the direction of the Fielder, but he tossed it to another teammate. The Fielders were passing the Runner around until they got close enough to the posts where the Runner was.

"Hufflepuff's close to scoring – three minutes left! What's Clark doing?"

Liam went off track. He stopped following the Fielders and instead put all his might into reaching the posts. The Runner was thrown ... all Hufflepuff had to do was redirect it into the post – which wasn't difficult in their situation. The ball reached the Hufflepuff Runner, Lee Jordan's nervous squeal filled the air – but Liam squeezed his way between the post and the Hufflepuff Runner, caught the ball and flew skyward to get away from the others.

"Liam Clark keeps the game alive!"

He threw the Runner in the direction of a Hufflepuff player, who was riding along Jimmy Clogg. Before the Runner made its way into the Hufflepuff player's hands, the ball shot to the left and into Jimmy Clogg, who flew towards the post, which was guarded by Batters. Jimmy did enough to weave his way passed the first three Batters, but when he met the last one, he threw the Runner into the air aiming at no one in particular – and then the ball shot forward by itself.

Simon Faulkner managed to scoop it up, but he was too slow; the Batters reformed around him, and this time with the Fielders.

"Faulkner's in a trap with only one minute to go! Come on, Clark, he needs you!"

Liam was avoiding Beaters and the force of his own Batters, as well as the Hufflepuff Base, Runner and a Fielder. He spun his way passed them. Faulkner threw the ball to the side and the Runner shot back towards the Gryffindor posts, but Hufflepuff knew better than the break ranks. Liam scooped up the ball and came to meet the strong wall of Hufflepuffs preventing him from scoring. Some charged at him, but he spun away and then hit the ball with shoulder, elbow and head – like he'd done at practice once – and then he spun around so that his back faced the posts, let the ball fall to his feet and kicked it. Liam sunk under them and the ball flew overhead.

"How can an Ayers player kick the ball if they're on flying shoes?" Harry asked Wood.

"It's such a risk it's not even funny because you have to regain momentum otherwise you fall out of the sky, which is quite hard. But people with good skill like Clogg, Faulkner and your mate, Liam, find it easy to kick off thin air, so they can do it."

"Thirty seconds!"

Some Hufflepuffs scrambled to get the ball, but only managing to collide into each other. Liam scooped up the ball, caught one glance of the Medio post and threw the ball in a completely different direction. The ball was going wide with fifteen seconds to go. Everyone was waiting in anticipation, but Harry couldn't stop thinking how stupid his cousin was for throwing the ball out so far wide – and then suddenly, the ball shot towards the Medio, hit the inside of the post and went in.

The Gryffindor crowd roar so loudly that Harry could barely hear the booming horn that sounded to end the game.

"Gryffindor win seven hundred to two fifty!"

The Gryffindor Ayers team surrounded Liam, patting him on the back and cheering. The team landed on the dugout and Harry was smiling at his cousin, but he didn't look up, not even to say thank you to his teammates. He just looked at the floor and stiffly walked towards a seat at the dugout.

"Now, onto the Quidditch match!"

Harry noticed that he'd been the last player on the dugout. The Ayers team was all that was left there. Harry got up, climbed his broomstick and kicked off.

When the whistle blew, Harry realised the rain was lashing now, and he could not help hearing how loud the thunder was roaring. It was never louder than his thumping heart, though, which seemed to beat against his chest ever since Wood pointed at Hufflepuffs new captain and seeker, Cedric Diggory. Diggory was a fifth year and was a lot bigger, which would help in the bad condition because he was less likely to be blown off his broom.

He had only realised then how strong the wind was, and that Liam and the Ayers team had to struggle against this earlier. Could he remember seeing flapping winged shoes? Perhaps sinking players who found it considerably hard to gain momentum and shoot off into the sky again? Maybe that's why the score was so low; Harry thought with points awarded as such, Gryffindor would have won with a wider margin than seven hundred.

Harry only began to panic when the rain had splattered all around his glasses. _How am I going to see the Snitch through this?_ Through the blurry, sludgy view through his glasses, he spotted Liam in the dugout, who looked as though he were shivering rapidly. He was hugging himself, probably to warm himself up, and he was almost lying in his seat. But he watched, although drowsy. _And I'm going to look like a fool in front of Liam!_

Several times had Harry needed to steady his Nimbus from tilting with the wind. He felt uneasy doing it because he was so frightened he might pull it so hard that he would topple over the other side.

He lost track of time. It was getting harder and harder to hold his broom straight. The sky was getting darker, as though night had decided to come early. Twice Harry nearly hit another player, without knowing whether it was a teammate or opponent; everyone was now so wet, and the rain so thick, he could hardly tell them apart.

A shrill noise sounded just as a flash of lightning bolted. He could just make out Wood's outline gesturing him to land. Harry cast a look to the dugouts once more and saw that the Ayers team were now draped in warm blankets and sheltered from the rain.

When he landed, he followed Wood to the edge of the field.

"I called for time out," said Wood. "We're fifty points up but unless we catch the Snitch, we'll be playing into the night."

"I've got no chance in these," said Harry, who took off his glasses and wiped them off on his robes.

At that moment, Hermione and Tessa arrived over his shoulder with an umbrella overhead. Harry turned to look at them and found them beaming.

"Hi, Harry," said Tessa. "We've been thinking –"

"Speculating, really," said Hermione. "You might need help seeing through all this rain with your glasses."

"If you could just hand them over – oh don't worry, it'll help," said Tessa, holding out her hand.

Harry gave his glasses to Tessa, who brought out her wand whilst Hermione managed to handle the umbrella over their heads against the wind. Tessa tapped the glasses with her wand and said, _"Impervius!"_

"There you go," said Hermione as Tessa handed Harry back his glasses. "They'll repel water."

"Excellent!" boomed Wood hoarsely. Hermione and Tessa bade Harry good luck and left. "OK, team, let's go win this!"

Harry was still cold and numb and wetter than ever – and he wished he was sitting with the Ayers team, relatively dry and wrapped in warm blankets – but he felt determined now that he could see. He pulled his broom around Bludgers and Diggory as the rain lashed harder, the thunder roared louder and the lightning streaked the sky.

This was getting dangerous, he had to catch the Snitch and fast. He looked at the dugout again. Liam was looking directly at him, his teeth chattering and he was still vigorously shivering. Harry felt colder looking at him, especially since his face looked ghost white in the cold weather. The only thing that made Harry believe he was still quite human was that his cheeks flushed so red that it looked like someone had punched him in the face.

Harry tore his head away from his cousin as another streak of forked lightning had hammered the sky. He dodged it and looked above him, as though expecting another to strike, and then he saw something that distracted him. An enormous silhouette of a black dog pressed against the sky, towering him and the field. Harry felt under a shadow.

"Harry!" Wood's voice just managed to reach Harry through the rain. "Harry! Behind you!"

Harry spun around wildly. Cedric Diggory was belting up the pitch and a shimmering gold ball was speeding behind them.

Harry sped away towards the Snitch, willing his Nimbus to go faster.

And then something strange happened. The stadium fell silent and the wind, though as strong as ever, forgot to roar. Harry thought he was going deaf – _what's going on?_

And then a horribly familiar wave of cold swept over him, inside him, just as he became aware of something moving on the pitch below …

Dementors. At least a hundred of them.

"You should have come to us the first thing!"

"I was – busy."

"I thought he was going to be dead for sure."

"No, you oaf, he hadn't even broken his glasses."

Harry could hear voices all around him. He couldn't tell where he was, or how he'd gotten there, or what he'd been doing before he got there.

"That was about the most scariest thing I've ever seen in my life."

Scariest thing ... hooded cloaks ... cold ... numb ... screaming ...

The Quidditch team and Jimmy Clogg had surrounded Harry, all of them splattered with mud from head to toe. Hermione, Ron and Tessa were there, too, all three looking drenched.

"It's double dosages for you, Mr Clark!"

Through a gap, Harry could see Liam being tended to by one of the matrons, who didn't look anymore happier than he did. He was still wrapped in a blanket but he'd stopped shivering – rapidly, at least.

"Harry!" boomed Fred. "How're you feeling."

Liam turned to the group and then squeezed his way through. He approached Harry with a smile on his face. His hair was choppy and wet and his cheeks were blood-red against his paled face.

Harry's head spun. Lightning ... the Grim ... the Snitch ... Dementors ...

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"You fell," said Fred. "I think fifty feet."

"We thought you died," said Alicia Spinnet.

"You didn't move," said Angelina Johnson.

"No one knew what happened," said George.

"If you think they were worried, you should wonder how I felt," said Liam, his voice thin.

"You weren't in much of a great state, either," said Ron.

"Shut it!"

"What happened to you?" asked Harry.

"Me?" asked Liam. "Err – nothing – you should be worrying about yourself."

"OK, then what about the game?" asked Harry.

No one answered.

"We didn't – lose ..."

"Diggory caught the Snitch," said Clogg. "I don't think he knew what happened. He looked down and saw you on the ground right after. They won fairly, even Wood's believing it. He's in the showers, I'm here on behalf of him and the Ayers team. Didn't think you wanted a big crowd, right?"

Harry put his head to his knees.

"Come on, now, pal, don't beat yourself up," continued Clogg. "From what I heard, you're a damned good player and you've never missed a Snitch. This is the only time you haven't caught it and that was because of an unlucky turn out."

"Besides, it's not over yet," said Fred. "We lost by a hundred points, right? So if Hufflepuff lose to Ravenclaw and we beat Ravenclaw and Slytherin …"

"Hufflepuff'll have to lose by at least two hundred points," said George.

"But if they beat Ravenclaw …"

"No way, Ravenclaw are too good. But if Slytherin lose against Hufflepuff …"

"It all depends on the points – a margin of a hundred either way –"

" _That's_ not helping," growled Liam.

"Sorry ..." said Fred and George in unison.

"All right, the team must be off, now," said Madam Madison, whose voice Liam seemed to find utterly annoying.

"We'll come see you later," said Fred. "You're still the best Seeker we've had."

The Quidditch team and Jimmy Clogg left Hermione, Tessa, Ron and Liam at Harry's bed.

"Dumbledore was really angry," said Tessa.

"He came onto the pitch and slowed you down before you landed," said Hermione.

"Then he turned to the dementors and cast some silvery stuff at it –"

"And they left. He was furious, Glumberry, too –"

"They both seemed to look at each other before he managed to get you onto a stretcher –"

"And now you're here," said Liam.

"And you – what happened to you?" Harry asked Liam once more.

"Err – well – I looked up at you when you were going to get the Snitch, but then you stopped and I stood. I kept my eyes on you and you fell, then ..." Liam trailed off and looked at the ground, not daring to look at Harry. "I – _heard_ something – something that I knew couldn't be from the crowd – the wind was silent, the crowd wasn't roaring – even though I could feel the wind belting my blanket and I saw the crowd jumping –"

He went silent again, and Harry wondered if Liam heard what Harry heard.

"Was it a woman?"

Liam looked up at Harry.

"She was screaming ... 'Not Harry! Please, not Harry!' ... and then there was this rasping draw of breath and I think a spell ..." said Liam, he looked away again. "Harry, I think it was your _mum_ ... I dunno how ... I mean, I might be going barking mad ... but I have a feeling that it was your mum."

Harry thought about it. He knew the voice was familiar, but he just suspected maybe Aunt Ange ... perhaps he was hearing something that had happened to her, which made him uneasy for a while. Hearing Liam say that it might have been his mother instead made Harry think. Why was he hearing his mom's voice?

"Sorry – I know I shouldn't be filling you in on something like that when your in such a state. I know how that feels," said Liam. Harry knew he was thinking about the various amounts of times he'd been in the hospital wing. He wondered whether he should tell Liam that he heard the woman, too, although he was quite surprised that Liam didn't pick up that he might have when he asked it the voice was a woman's.

"It's OK," said Harry. He looked around. "Where's my Nimbus?"

Harry saw that Liam fixed his gaze on the floor, pretending as though he never heard that question. Hermione and Tessa looked at each other and Ron stared around.

" _What happened to my Nimbus?"_

"Well … when you fell off, it got blown away,' said Hermione hesitantly.

"And?"

"And it hit – it hit – oh, Harry – it hit the Whomping Willow," said Tessa.

 _Oh no!_

"And?"

"Well, you know the Whomping Willow," said Ron. "It – it doesn't like being hit."

"Professor Flitwick brought it back just before you came around," said Hermione. She began to reach for something, but Liam stopped her.

"I guess we could leave you with the option of whether you want to hear it or see it."

"What's the difference?"

"Well, seeing it might break your heart into tiny little pieces like your Nimbus," he said with a tentative smile.


	11. The Marauder's Map

CHAPTER TEN

The Marauder's Map

Being in the Hospital Wing again brought back so many horrible memories of bruises, gashes and comas from Liam's first year. Those bedsteads and the musky smell of various potions were a sour reminder that Ronan Droge intended for such a rough and rowdy Ayers Tournament. He thought of his nasty face every time he strapped on his flying shoes. They were a gift from him. Ronan Droge bought him those shoes.

He had to suck it up, though, because Harry's needs were greater than his. He watched his cousin fall fifty feet to the ground because of the dementors, and saw his Nimbus being battered and thumped by the Whomping Willow. Harry needed him to be there, even if he did have an odd phobia of the Hospital Wing.

However, being in the Hospital Wing also reminded him that he was sick. And not just sick, he was sick with an incurable illness caused by a man who lived more than a millennium ago. Sooner or later he was going to be "stung" by the Scorpion Sting, and then he was going to die in a matter or minutes ... hours ... days ... he didn't know.

He could tell that anyone who saw him knew he was sick. He was pale, he coughed a lot and he felt sluggish and weak. Ever since he was told about the sickness and its symptoms, he felt that every hour that was wasted doing nothing to stop it weakened him. Every time he'd need to lift his arms for something it felt almost as if he was carrying the weight of the world. He couldn't manage much in his Ayers match against Hufflepuff. There were times in which he hadn't had a clue of where he'd been until Lee Jordan's anxious voice pried its way through his clogged ears. If Gryffindor had lost, he wouldn't have forgiven himself, even though he knew a sickness like this could make you comatose.

Liam was glad that Harry was let out of the Hospital Wing after the weekend – although it was a weekend _too_ long. However, he couldn't ease the urging pain he had every time he looked at Harry. Hermione had shown Harry the remnants of his Nimbus, and the broken expression on his face made Liam wish he'd gotten Harry that Firebolt back at Diagon Alley. Liam could see that Harry tried to hide his feelings. He didn't want to mask the same broken expression he had on when he saw his Nimbus.

And Hermione and Ron's usual bickering session didn't help.

Because Harry was gone, Liam was stuck with Hermione and Ron's arguments about their pets. Tessa was with him, but the two of them were apparently taking sides. Ron had given them the option to choose once, but he didn't have enough patience to wait for an answer. He assumed that, because Liam disliked Hermione, Liam was on his side and Tessa, because she and Hermione were very alike, was on Hermione's side.

Liam didn't help himself when Ron had asked him for his opinion. He wanted to bang his head against a brick wall for several hours after saying "Well, if you think of it, having a cat around a rat isn't the best thing to do." He was thinking logically and irrationally. _There's another impulsive move!_ His father often said he acted on impulse rather than instinct, something he really needed to work on.

He particularly hated Ron and Hermione's arguing when Harry got back. Liam had a sense that it wouldn't help him much, especially since Harry told him he didn't throw away his Nimbus.

"Why, though?" Liam asked Harry.

"Sentimental value." Short, simple and an easy sign saying he didn't want to talk about it. Liam sighed and looked around. The noticeboard caught his attention.

His heart sunk.

"Another Hogsmeade visit," murmured Harry. Liam looked at him. He obviously saw the noticeboard when he saw Liam looking at it.

"I'm going to keep to my promise, Harry, I won't go until you're allowed to," declared Liam with a weak smile. It probably didn't do any justice considering Liam didn't look like he was going to wake up for school tomorrow.

"No, I'm not going to allow you to do that," said Harry. "You're going to miss out on the fun."

"It won't be much fun if you're not there with me," said Liam. "The dainty picture of you sitting here alone all day will nag me. Harry, you're my cousin, and, honestly, I don't think Tessa could be much company if we're being dragged into Pet Wars every other second."

Harry put on a smile, and Liam's mood warmed. He loved his humour because it made just about anyone smile – except Hermione (although he has seen an odd form of a smile on her face before, or was he hallucinating?)

"Besides, I'm sure you'll get permission soon," said Liam. He still hadn't given up hope. It was strange to know that he was keeping up such a good spirit for something as silly as a simple "I hereby give Harry Potter permission to visit Hogsmeade".

Liam felt relieved that Lupin was back for their next Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. He didn't feel in the mood to be challenged by Snape. Although, he didn't like their chances of never seeing the Potionsmaster as Defence Against the Dark Arts professor again because Lupin looked almost as bad as Liam. In his darned and patched robes, which hung loosely on him, Professor Lupin sat behind his desk with Venus, his face pale and gaunt.

Lupin smiled at the class as they took their seats whilst Venus, as usual, was writing down on a piece of parchment. Liam almost thought he was recording all the lessons they'd done so far, like Snape had suggested, but he hoped it was rather a complaint to the Headmasters that Snape had been such an unreasonable substitute that he shouldn't be allowed the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts. He didn't know why, but thinking about Snape's low chances of inheriting the post satisfied him.

"So, I understand Professor Snape had started werewolves," said Lupin. He still had a smile on but there was something about it that made Liam think that he was uncomfortable about werewolves.

Venus wasn't at ease about it either, but Liam thought that was because he'd been scratched or injured by a werewolf – like Snape had so openly stated. Memories like that with a werewolf could change someone. He couldn't say from experience but he knew there was a reason people kept away from wolves and no one would even fathom seeing a werewolf.

"I also understand that he had you do an essay on the topic," said Lupin.

There was a sudden outburst of complaints that Liam was sure had been bottled in for the sake of Lupin's sickly condition.

"It's not fair, he was only filling in, why should he set us homework?"

"We don't know anything about werewolves –'

"– two rolls of parchment!"

"– we told him we hadn't gotten that far, right Professor Sting –"

"– he wouldn't listen –"

"– _exam standards –"_

"– two rolls of parchment!"

"All right, all right!" called Lupin. "We'll have a little chat with Professor Snape, and in any fact, Professor Sting tells me that he told him off for taking over the lesson."

"A little too late, though," said Venus. "I'm truly sorry that I allowed Sniv– Snape to behave like that. I should have acted faster."

"Snape specialises in making people feel bad," said Harry.

"I know that firsthand," said Venus, smiling at Harry. "Anyway, there's no need to do the essay."

Liam was okay with that. He hadn't done the essay and he was prepared to say it was because of his sickness – although guiltily so.

"Oh no!" Hermione and Tessa groaned in unison. Knowing them, they probably finished it.

Liam's eyebrows furrowed, and then Ron caught his attention with an expression similar to his. He was sure he was thinking the same thing, _where did they come from?_ He didn't have time to mull over it, or to have a short conversation with Ron because Venus began to speak again.

"So, following the book, we'll be doing Hinkypunks. I know I said we'll be doing the Fera, but unfortunately Professor Snape was right about one thing: you can't teach something like the Fera without teaching you the basics. But if you are curious, the Fera is possibly the most dangerous species of werewolf that ever lived."

Leaving the students in anticipation wasn't the best idea, but Venus and Lupin made up for it in the very successful lesson on Hinkypunks. They were little one-legged creatures who seemed as though they were made of wisps of smoke. They were frail and looked harmless. They apparently lure travellers into bogs, and then make a horrible squelching noise.

Everyone gathered their things and were leaving when the bell hummed, but Liam heard Harry's name being called out by Lupin, and he wasn't willing to leave him alone.

"I just wanted to know about your broom," said Lupin when everyone left. "Venus told me about the match. Any chances of fixing it?"

"No," said Harry. "That tree smashed it to bits."

Lupin sighed. Venus looked around.

"The Whomping Willow ... never really the most pleasant of trees but there isn't much we can do to a tree that hits back, right?" said Lupin. "It was planted when we attended Hogwarts." He pointed to Venus and himself. Liam never knew Lupin and Venus went to Hogwarts at the same time.

"People were dumb enough to mess around with it," said Venus with a smile; odd to see when he was talking about a tree that could flatten you where you stood. "A boy called Davey Gudgeon nearly lost an eye, and we were forbidden to go near it. No broomstick would have a chance."

"And the dementors," Liam's stomach knotted, he'd forgotten about them, "did you hear about them, too."

Lupin looked at him quickly, and Venus averted his gaze once more.

"Yes, I did. I don't think anyone has ever seen that side of the Headmasters before. Furious they were, but for a good cause, at least. The dementors are growing restless and hungry. I supposed that's why you fell."

Harry was silent, but Liam could tell that Lupin and Venus took that as a yes.

Liam hadn't thought much of the process. Harry fell, yes, and he knew it was because of the dementors, but he didn't know why. His cousin's first encounter with a dementor had him seizing on the compartment floor of the Hogwarts Express. He said he heard screaming ... a woman screaming. Liam wondered if what he heard was what Harry heard, then and now.

"Why do they affect me so much ... am I –"

"Weak? No, I don't think so," said Lupin. "There are men in Azkaban, big, burly men, who have been affected worse, and the outcome of such isn't very pleasant."

"Especially for a man who could probably break the jail bars open," said Venus.

"Were you affected badly?" Harry asked Venus.

"Who, me?" asked Venus. "Kazaban was different, easier to escape. They were no dementors at the post. I supposed they'd all been taken along with the rest of the prison during the whole 'splitting of world' trick your fathers managed to pull off."

Venus had a grin on. A cheeky grin. It unnerved Liam only because he didn't expect a teacher to look so devious. For some reason, it reminded Liam of the Weasley twins. Troublemaking and naughty. Venus had been friends with his father, whom his mother said had been nothing more than a troublemaker – she also said she didn't know how she found him attractive, but, like Clarks always seem to do, she was joking.

"Why'd they come to the match?" Harry asked.

"Well, they must be hungry," said Venus. His smile looked a little more innocent. "Dumbledore and Glumberry's starving them ... won't let them within the school boundaries. Don't want many comatose students, right?"

"I don't think they would avoid a match," said Lupin. "There's too much excitement."

"You've told us before that Azkaban was on an island," brought up Liam. "If it's in the middle of the ocean with the dementors guarding the prisoners, then how is it that Black escaped?"

"I can't imagine how, but Black must have found a way to fight off the dementors," said Lupin. "Anyway, we've told you about the dementors before. What they do, what they feed on, how they live. There's no use telling you more, I've already told you all I know."

"But you said there's a way to repel the dementors ..." said Harry.

"If you truly wish to do this, Harry, then I can't stop you. Venus and I, we'll try to make you as safe as possible, what with Black running around after you," said Lupin. "But, you must understand, I am sick and quite busy. I'll send out a notice of when I'm free for us to start working. You want to join, too, Liam?"

It took a while for him to register the question. He'd been wrapped around how Sirius Black could escape a prison in the middle of the ocean, guarded by cloaked figures that could dement you from bad memories. He knew if he were stuck in a prison like that, he'd gone crazy within the first few minutes.

"Yeah, sure," said Liam.

"So, we have an agreement ... you'll come only after we send a notice," said Lupin.

All Harry heard when he walked into the common room two weeks later was that Ravenclaw thrashed Hufflepuff. Not only that, they were going on about the Chaser, Breeanne Shacklebolt, who'd apparently scored a good five hundred points alone before the Seeker had caught the Snitch. She must have had sports blood because Breeanne Shacklebolt was the same year Harry was, and he had never known of another third year Quidditch player. He has never seen her but he'd heard about her once, but that was when Jimmy Clogg was talking to him, and Jimmy Clogg only had sports terminology programmed in his head, so he thought that was his way of making conversation.

He also knew that Breeanne Shacklebolt was from "Liam's side", so he had asked Liam who she was.

"Her father works in the Ministry," said Liam. "An _Auror_. Hermione said they were wizarding police officers. I'm kinda wondering if he was assigned to Venus's case last year. Although, I'm not sure if this is right, but I've heard that her father hasn't been around much. In fact, up until now, I think he's been on your side till Ron and I did that whole thing with the Mirror. Breeanne's done "the impossible" according to Jimmy, she plays both Quidditch _and_ Ayers."

Harry was now used to the whole "your-side-my-side" thing. There was no easier way of referring to the period in which Liam and Harry were separated as "Liam's side" and "Harry's side".

"What does she play?"

"Chaser for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, of course, Runner for Ayers," said Liam. "Pretty damn good, from what I hear. Played her once in my life and that was last year. And last year everyone was pretty shaken up from the sudden increase of students and teachers, so I don't think anybody's mind was up to Ayers. If it were I'm sure Ravenclaw would have been more of a challenge, if Breeanne Shacklebolt is that good. I guess she's good, the margin was a little bigger when Ravenclaw won against Hufflepuff in Ayers. We did four fifty and theirs was seven hundred."

Gryffindor had a chance after all. Harry was happy about that. He was also happy about the fact that he hadn't seen a single dementor since Gryffindor played Hufflepuff. Relief washed over him when the snow replaced the rain. It was cold, but nothing compared to what the dementors made him feel. Christmas was coming up and Liam had sent another owl to his parents – although he doubted a reply would come – asking if he and Harry could come home for the holiday. When nothing came, Harry thought Liam might have been losing hope on his parents' response. Together they'd sent a total of three owls to Mr and Mrs Clark, they had to use Ron's withered owl, Errol, to send this one.

Harry had to admit he was a little disappointed. The next Hogsmeade visit was over Christmas and he would be spending it alone in the Gryffindor common room. Liam did say he wouldn't go without Harry, that he wanted his first time at the village to be Harry's. He appreciated that, but he had a pang of guilt when Tessa, Hermione and Ron all recalled their time at Hogsmeade. Liam couldn't enjoy the delights of butterbeer, nor could he have seen the troll Hermione and Tessa spotted near the Shrieking Shack.

He tried to convince Liam of that when the trip actually came, but he didn't have much luck.

"I _promised,_ Harry. Clark's don't break promises, it's our whole incentive to live," argued Liam. "Why be trusted if you can't keep a promise? Dad does this thing with me to make sure I kept up to that ... it's called a Lightning Promise, you know, because of this nasty old bugger on our heads." Liam tapped the thin lightning scar on his forehead.

Harry didn't need any introductions to Thomas Clark's Lightning Promises, he was told about them before boarding the Hogwarts Express.

"Bottom line, I don't intend to break a promise," said Liam. "I've made tons and I've never broken a single one. I don't want to break this one, especially since its the first ever promise I've made you, Harry."

"Liam, I appreciate this a lot," said Harry, and he meant it, "but I really can't expect you to do this. Having you stay here with me will just make me feel worse. You'll be missing out on the fun."

"Harry –"

"I'm not giving you a choice, Liam, go!"

He walked them down. Liam was reluctant to leave Harry alone, but he eventually did it. Harry watched as their little figures disappeared into the heart of Hogsmeade Village, and then turned and stalked back to the castle. He suspected he'd read up on different makes of brooms – that were a little more affordable than the Firebolt. The school one he'd been using was old and jerky, and it made him miss his Nimbus more and more.

"Psst – Harry!"

Halfway along the third floor corridor, he turned to see Fred and George peering out at him from behind a statue of a humpbacked, one-eyed witch.

"Fred? George? What are you doing here, aren't you going to Hogsmeade?" Harry asked them.

"It's Christmas, Harry," said George.

"Thought we might want to give you a bit of festive cheer," said Fred. He nodded to the classroom left to the one-eyed witch. Harry followed them in.

"What's this all about?" asked Harry.

Fred pulled something from inside his cloak and laid it on one of the desks. It was a large, square, very worn piece of parchment with nothing written on it.

"What's that supposed to be?"

"This, Harry, is the secret of our success," said George, patting the parchment fondly.

"It's a wrench, giving it to you," said Fred, "but we decided last night, your need's greater than ours."

"Anyway, we know it off by heart," said George. "We bequeath it to you. We don't really need it any more."

"It's just an old piece of parchment," said Harry.

"Harry, you offend us," said Fred dramatically.

"It's not only _just an old piece of parchment,"_ said George. "In our first year – the innocent year –"

Harry scoffed, he didn't there was a single instance where Fred and George were innocent.

"– well, more innocent than we are now – we got into a spot of bother with Filch."

"We let off a Dungbomb in the corridor and it upset him for some reason –"

"So he hauled us off to his office and started threatening us with the usual –"

"– detention –"

"– disembowelment –"

"– and we couldn't help noticing a drawer in one of his filing cabinets marked Confiscated and Highly Dangerous."

"George caused a diversion by dropping another Dungbomb, I whipped the drawer open and grabbed – this."

"It's not as bad as it sounds, you know," said George. "We don't reckon Filch ever found out how to work it. He probably suspected what it was, though, or he wouldn't have confiscated it."

"And you know how to work it?" asked Harry.

"Yup!" beamed Fred.

"And ... are you going to tell me _how_ it works?"

He took out his wand and lightly placed it on the piece of parchment, saying _"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."_

And at once, thin ink lines began to spread like a spider's web from the point that George's wand had touched. They joined each other, they criss-crossed, they fanned into every corner of the parchment; then words began to blossom across the top, great, curly green words, that said:

 _Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers_

 _are proud to present_

 _THE MARAUDER_ _'_ _S MAP_

It was a map showing every detail of the Hogwarts castle and grounds. But what surprised Harry the most was the tiny ink dots moving around it, each labelled with a name in minuscule writing. Astounded, Harry bent over it. A labelled dot in the top left corner showed that Professor Dumbledore and Glumberry were pacing their study, crossing each other's paths; Filch's cat, Mrs Norris, was prowling the second floor, and Peeves the poltergeist was currently bouncing around the trophy room. And as Harry's eyes travelled up and down the familiar corridors, he noticed something else.

The map showed a bunch of passages that Harry had not yet used, and they led straight into –

"Hogsmeade?" Harry asked them.

"There are seven secret passages in all. Now, Filch knows about these four –" Fred had pointed them out, "– but we're sure we're the only ones who know about these. Don't bother with the one behind the mirror on the fourth floor. We used it until last winter, but it's caved in – completely blocked. And we don't reckon anyone's ever used this one, because the Whomping Willow's planted right over the entrance. But this one here, this one leads right into the cellar of Honeydukes. We've used it loads of times. And as you might've noticed, the entrance is right outside this room, through that one-eyed old crone's hump."

"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs," said George, "Noble men, working tirelessly to help a new generation of lawbreakers."

"'Course they weren't the only ones, hey," said Fred. "Put in a recommendation for three others, Pitch, Silverpaw and Stripes."

"Now, you mustn't forget to swipe it –" said George.

"Otherwise anyone can read it –" said Fred.

"Just tap it again and say 'Mischief managed!' and it'll go blank."

"Behave yourself, Harry," said Fred.

"See you at Honeydukes."

It took a while, but eventually Harry used the map. He doubted he needed any means of caution – because almost everyone was already at Hogsmeade – but that never stopped him from looking around for signs of people before slipping behind the statue of the one-eyed witch.

The map was amazing. It showed him where to go and how to get there. His miniature ink dot, labelled 'Harry Potter', had brought out its miniature wand, tapped the one-eyed witch with a speech bubble spelling out 'Dissendium'. He had done so and found himself sliding down a tunnel. When he landed, he took out his wand and said _"Lumos!"_ and his wand tip lit up. He made sure to wipe the map before continuing.

It took a while to reach Honeydukes, and when he had, he found himself on a very, very long flight of stone stairs that led to what he thought was a trapdoor. Harry listened for any voices just to make sure that he wouldn't mistakenly walk in on something he wasn't supposed to. He lifted the door just a little, and peered into the shop.

He was in a cellar which was full of wooden crates and boxes. Harry climbed out of the trapdoor and replaced it – it blended so perfectly with the dusty floor that it was impossible to tell it was there. Harry crept slowly towards the wooden staircase that led upstairs. He could hear voices, as well as the twinkling of the bell as students walked in and out.

He didn't have much trouble getting into the shop unnoticed, but his nerves may have tricked him once or twice. When he had gotten into the shop, immediately he squeezed himself into the bustling crowd, looking over heads to find Liam, Ron, Hermione and Tessa. There were standing in a corner, under a sign that said **Unusual Tastes.** Ron was examining a tray of blood-flavoured lollipops.

"Not even Von Seiler would eat those," said Tessa.

"He's a Veggie Vampire. The only thing I think he'll eat are those Sour Sprouts out at the back," said Liam, gesturing behind him with his thumb.

"Fine, d'you think he'll like some Cockroach Clusters?" asked Ron.

Harry could see Liam's mouth opening to answer, but he intervened.

"Not at all."

They all whipped around.

"Harry, what are you –?" questioned Hermione.

"How'd you get here –?" asked Tessa.

"Didn't Filch or Gray see you –?" asked Liam.

"Excellent, you've learnt to Apparate!" said Ron.

"What – no –" said Harry. He lowered his voice so that no one could hear them. "Your brothers –" he pointed at Ron, "they gave me this map – the Marauder's Map, its called. Some people – Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs – and some blokes they mention – Pitch, Silverpaw and Stripes – created it to show you every single passage – secret and all – and where every single person on the school grounds are."

"Moony ... Wormtail ... Padfoot ... Prongs ... Pitch ... Silverpaw ... and Stripes ...?" asked Liam, screwing up his face. "Their mothers really must've hated them."

"They're probably nicknames," said Hermione. "Like the one I gave you."

Liam made a face. Harry couldn't tell if he was puzzled or disgusted.

"Which is?" he asked.

" _Insensitive,"_ retorted Hermione.

Liam rolled his eyes. "I should be offended by that, but I'm not even going to bother. Well ... at least I don't have to break my promise to you." He said to Harry.

Hermione didn't even seem to register what he said. She turned away and fixed her infuriated look on Harry.

"You're not thinking of _keeping_ that map, are you?" she questioned.

"'Course he's keeping the map!" spat Liam. "That thing's a bloody gold mine. Be easier to plot revenge on Snape with that."

Hermione hit Liam in the stomach.

"It seems you've decided to use _physical_ means," grumbled Liam, tenderly rubbing his stomach.

Again, Hermione ignored him.

"Harry, you must give it to McGonagall and McDonald," demanded Hermione.

"No way!" said Harry.

"If you think about it, it could possess some unsafe magic," Tessa raised. "It isn't a very reliable source of information – we don't even know – _Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs, Pitch, Silverpaw and Stripes ..._ Those _aren't_ the best of names ..."

"And Sirius Black might be using one of the passages to get into the school," said Hermione. "The teachers need to know about this. Especially Venus, considering he's your godfather!"

"He can't be getting in through a passage," said Harry quickly. "There are seven secret tunnels on the map, right? Fred and George reckon Filch already knows about four of them. And the other three – one of them's caved in, so no one can get through it. One of them's got the Whomping Willow planted over the entrance, so you can't get out of it. And the one I just came through – well – it's really hard to see the entrance to it down in the cellar – so unless he knew it was there –"

Ron was pointing at the sweetshop door. On it was a notice that said:

 _ **BY ORDER OF THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC**_

 _Customers are reminded that until further notice, Dementors will be patrolling the streets of Hogsmeade every night after sundown. This measure has been put in place for the safety of Hogsmeade residents and will be lifted upon the recapture of Sirius Black. It is therefore advisable that you complete your shopping well before nightfall._

 _Merry Christmas!_

"Now, I'd like to see Black try and break into Honeydukes with Dementors swarming all over the village," said Ron. "Anyway, Hermione, the Honeydukes owners would hear a break in, wouldn't they? They live over the shop!"

"Point exactly!" said Liam. Hermione cast him a grim look. She didn't seem to like the fact that he had joined the conversation, and Liam appeared not to care. He looked at her, a complacent smile pasted his face, and said, "Besides, it's Christmas. He deserves a break."

Hermione fell short, and then bit her lip to eliminate any signs of unsuccessful reciprocation. Liam now had a satiated smile on his face, and he puffed his chest out like he'd become the victor of a challenging rivalry. Then suddenly he seemed to remember he wasn't the kind who wanted to make people feel inferior. His posture dropped and he went a little red – which Harry probably wouldn't have seen if Liam wasn't so pale.

"So ... shall Liam and I show you around Honeydukes ... maybe snatch some few more sweets –?" asked Ron.

"Or – we can go straight to the Three Broomsticks – I've been _dying_ to try those butterbeers – 'course we're gonna have to pay for what we've got first ...?" asked Liam.

Harry liked the second option; he'd been dying to taste butterbeer, too. Hermione, Tessa and Ron went on about it the last time, and he remembered Ron saying something about it being able to cheer you up, which he reckoned he needed.

The Three Broomsticks was a small inn catered by a woman with a pretty face named Madam Rosmerta – who was incredibly shocked at the resemblance between Liam and his father, Thomas. Liam found it crowded and noisy, but in perfect condition to get away from the chilly weather. He was dressed heavily – he had an odd desire to clad himself with layers and layers of warm clothes because of his sickness – but that didn't do much against the weather.

"Oh," said Tessa suddenly, "I hope you don't mind, but I invited Callum and Violet to come sit with us for a while."

"Not at all," said Liam.

He could use some company from an old friend, anyway. The way he acted around Hermione was a little extreme. He didn't expect to enjoy what he'd done, but his smile and body didn't take his orders.

Callum and Violet joined them shortly after Ron had gone off to get them butterbeers. Liam's black-haired friend had a bubbly smile on, and next to him sat Violet Reece, whose face Liam had sworn he had seen before. It didn't seem she thought any different. She blushed, and Liam could tell it wasn't for being around new people, or seeing someone she liked, it was the kind of expression he would have put on if he had been in the company of someone who couldn't remember him.

"How're you liking Hogwarts so far?" asked Liam. It was the first thing that popped into mind, but he hoped it would at least sooth her mood.

"Fine, I guess," said Violet. "I love the portraits! Von Seiler's an interesting teacher! Sunderland and Flitwick make Charms fun! And – even though some of the Slytherins don't agree – but Hagrid and Dreagon are really good teachers."

Something weird happened. What lay on the table had shifted a little to one side, as though they were subtly trying to get away from Violet. Liam was afraid something would fall off and had the sudden urge to stop the condiments from moving, but he managed to keep his arms at bay.

"But, apart from that, I kinda like Defence Against the Dark Arts, too," said Violet, drawing his attentions away from the moving condiments. "Professor Lupin and Professor Sting are the best – I hear Sting's your godfather – but I didn't think Snape's behaviour in that one lesson was very necessary."

"You and the whole of Gryffindor house," said Ron, arriving with five tankards of butterbeer.

Violet laughed. A loud, cackling laugh. It stunned Liam because he hadn't expected it, and in no time at all he got used to it.

"Oh, you guys must hear what happened during Potions the one time," said Callum, his face beaming. "Tell them, Vi!"

"Vi –?" murmured Liam.

"It was shortly after the Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson with Snape. I was kinda ticked off with him for acting that way towards Lupin and Sting – I mean, who wouldn't – but remember that armadillo bile mixture we had to do? Well, I purposely mixed up the ingredients by putting bat wings before Wormwood just to get Snape over there – then I put in Baneberry –"

"Baneberry and Wormwood are unbalanced supplements," said Hermione, fazed.

"In a mixture it could cause a catastrophic combustion," said Tessa.

"Violet, that could have blown the entire Potions class!" rebuked Hermione.

"Not unless you put one berry in," said Violet. "Wormwood and Baneberry are unbalanced, yes, but putting one berry in a large quantity of Wormwood would only make an eruption. So anyway, I did that when Snape came over so that my cauldron's entire contents and gone all over his face."

Everyone had laughed except for Liam, who was lost in thought.

"Vi –" said Liam, absentmindedly. "– sister – strawberry – you're the girl that smeared strawberry ice-cream all over Harry!"

Violet had blushed again.

"What?" asked Harry. He looked at Liam, and then at Violet. In a short moment of comprehension, he seemed to remember the girl, too.

"Again, I'm _so_ sorry about that!" said Violet, apologetically.

"Don't be," said Harry. "It gave us a bit of a laugh, afterwards."

"You have a sister," said Liam.

"Melissa," answered Violet. "She's starting her first year. Made a couple of friends already. Some of them are in Hufflepuff – she kinda brags on about the fact that she has Hufflepuff friends –"

Violet had stopped; her eyes bulged.

Liam made a face. He looked around at the others and they all didn't seem to know what was wrong either.

"Violet?" called Tessa. Violet didn't answer. "Violet ...? _Violet?"_

"What –?" she snapped back to reality and her cheeks flushed red once more. "Sorry – don't mind me – I just thought – nah, you all will think I'm crazy –"

"What?" asked Tessa sympathetically.

Violet looked at Harry for a moment, stammered, and then said, "Nah ... it's crazy –"

"What did you see?" blurted Liam.

Violet hesitated. She looked at Harry again – no, she looked past Harry, as though she were examining something interesting behind him. The only problem was that there was nothing interesting behind Harry, apart from an empty table that had been cleaned by a young barmaid.

"I – thought I saw a black dog behind Harry," said Violet.

Liam locked eyes with Harry, and then he suddenly remembered the Lightning Promise he made with his dad. His father had told him all about the Grim, but he also said that Sirius Black was like a werewolf, who could change into a large black dog. His father made him vow not to speak a single word of it, especially to Harry. Clarks never broke promises – that was something his father made clear to him – but breaking a Lightning Promise was asking for a death sentence.

Promises aren't supposed to be broken, that's what Liam's father said. Promises were a commitment, and one must always stay true and loyal to their commitments, otherwise what's the point in making them.

With that in mind, looking at Harry made him feel guilty. He was holding back information that could help his cousin out of his predicament. However, it could also harm Harry. Letting him in on the fact that the black dog he had been seeing all over the place was Sirius Black could make Harry mad with concern. He would be worried every time he stepped out of class, seeing every black dog as a coldblooded killer.

"See, I told you," said Violet. Liam was grateful she gave him a reason to look away from Harry. "You all think I'm crazy."

"No, not at all," said Hermione. "We just –"

"Violet, we've seen and fought much creepier things," said Liam, trying to sound casual in order to conceal his fear.

Violet smiled. She seemed relieved that they hadn't found her odd.

"Well," said Callum. "Can't stay. Still have to go around and shop. Violet had to do a catchup lesson with Sunderland and Flitwick in Charms during the last Hogsmeade visit, so I still need to show her around."

"Bye," said Tessa and Liam as Callum and Violet left.

They watched them leave, and as they reached the door Professor McGonagall and Professor McDonald walked past them, followed by Dreagon – who looked a little flustered from the amount of melting snow and mistletoe berries caught in his big, blonde beard. The giant was talking to a portly man in a lime-green bowler hat and a pinstriped cloak: Cornelius Fudge. Professor Sunderland and Professor Flitwick strolled behind them, talking with a young, stout man who barely fit into his robes: Eric Cornel.

Before Liam could act, Harry was already under the table – and uncomfortably so because he pushed around the forest of legs he was just plunged into. Liam's hands went into his pockets and pulled out his ring and he gave it to Harry, who put it on right away.

Liam tried his best to act normal. He didn't want the Minister or Prime Minister noticing he was there, but any hope of that had faded.

"Hi, Liam!" said Prime Minister Eric Cornel, waving in Liam's direction.

Liam spun around and the disastrously round man was suddenly in front of him, Professor Sunderland at his side throwing him a large, warming smile.

"Prime Minister," he said anxiously. "Professor."

"Liam," said Sunderland.

"Enjoying Hogsmeade?" asked Cornel.

Liam screwed up his face; he didn't expect something like this.

"Yeah – _yes_ – yes – sir ..."

"Oh, dear boy, you don't need to call me 'sir'. It sounds too _formal,"_ said Prime Minister Cornel.

"Ok – sir – _owe!"_ Harry had hit his leg. "Sorry – leg cramps – just – need – to – kick – it – out –" with every word he kicked until it made contact with Harry.

"So, I hope everything's well and that you'll have a good Christmas," said Cornel.

"Thanks ... you too," replied Liam. He had the urge to call him 'sir' again, but that either would have cost him another blow to his shin, or Cornel emphasising his point of not wanting to be formal.

"I must leave, now. Important business to attend to," said Cornel, pointing at a nearby table where he could hear Dreagon and Fudge chatting loudly. "Bye."

"Bye ..." 

Liam could hear that Cornel was trying to charm him. Out of sympathy or pity, he didn't know, but he knew Cornel was well informed of Liam's strange sickness by his parents if not Fudge. He didn't like that feeling. Concerned individuals trying to express affinity because of his condition made him uncomfortable. He took it as clear indication that he should be in the hospital wing, a place he mentally thought was as prohibited as the Forbidden Forest.

"Well that was odd," mumbled Liam.

Liam watched them seat themselves at their table, and tuned his ears on their conversation. He could hear it clearly, especially when Madam Rosmerta swung by.

"Liam, stop eavesdropping!" hissed Hermione.

"It's about Harry," grumbled Liam, and he shot a glance down at Harry, forgetting that he'd been invisible.

"How do you know?" asked Hermione.

"Because what's so important to the Ministry of Magic?"

"Black?"

Liam gave her a _now-you're-catching-on_ look and then averted his attention back to the adults, not even noticing that she'd spun her head around in order to listen, too.

"A small Gillywater –"

"Mine," said Professor McGonagall's voice.

"Eight pints of mulled mead –"

"Ta, Rosmerta," said Dreagon. She looked puzzled as the passed it to him. "Hagrid'll be joinin' us. Soon, I 'ope."

"Nettle tea –"

"Here," said Professor McDonald.

"A cherry syrup and soda with ice and umbrella –"

"Mmm!" said Professor Flitwick, smacking his lips.

"Elderflower wine –"

"My favourite," said Professor Sunderland.

"Firewhiskey, Cornel?"

"You know it well, my dear," said Cornel.

"So you'll be the redcurrant rum, Minister."

"Thank you, Rosmerta, m'dear," said Fudge's voice. "Lovely to see you again, I must say."

"Have one yourself, won't you? Come and join us …"

"Well, thank you very much."

Liam calmed down. He thought his invisibility ring would at least give Harry leverage, but if he made any unnecessary movements then the teachers' attention would be drawn on them and they would have to explain where that noise came from and why they were listening in on their conversation. And at the rate Harry was going at – wriggling and worming about trying to find a comfortable position under the table – their chances were increasingly thin.

"Quit wriggling! You'll give us away!" Liam whispered to Harry.

"I'm sorry, _I'm_ being prodded by feet!" Harry whispered back.

" _You_ have no right to be here," said Liam and he regretted it the moment it came out of his mouth. _Nice, Liam, remind him about his restrictions._ "Now pipe it, I'm trying to listen!"

"So, what brings the Minister and Prime Minister of Magic here?" asked Madam Rosmerta.

Fudge twisted his body around, checking for eavesdroppers, and immediately Liam laughed looking at the first person he laid eyes on: Hermione. She was puzzled, but thankfully she caught on. She laughed with Tessa, and they made it look more realistic than he would ever achieve alone. Not that he wasn't good at fake-laughing – having a jokester for a dad made it easier for him to laugh whenever he needed to – but if nobody caught on, then it would have been very awkward.

"Why're we laughing?" asked Ron.

Tessa elbowed him, and Ron began to laugh, too. Forcefully, but he laughed nonetheless.

When Fudge turned around to face Madam Rosmerta, Liam said, "That was the funniest thing I've ever heard you say," speaking to no one in particular. If he said anymore, he would have missed what Fudge had said next.

"Sirius Black, m'dear, what else?" said Fudge. "You must have heard what happened at the school on Hallowe'en?"

"I heard a rumour," said Madam Rosmerta.

There was a short silence, and then Dreagon boomed, "I swear I didn' tell much!"

"Oh, it doesn't matter!" scolded McGonagall.

"D'you think Black's in the area?" asked Madam Rosmerta.

"Not a lot of our sources support it, but we're sure of it," admitted Cornel. "I mean, the dementors have detected him once or twice, but they often say he's gone off before."

"Those dementors have searched the pub twice!" complained Madam Rosmerta. "Scared all my customers away. Not good business at all!"

"I'm sure everyone here would agree that they don't like the dementors any more than you do," said Fudge. "But it's for a good cause, m'dear. Your safety as well as the students'."

"In any fact, they're in a bit of a row with the Headmasters ... Potter had an incident in a Quidditch match involving those wretched things," said Cornel. "Let's just say he ended up in the hospital wing and his broom isn't in good shape, either."

"Poor thing," said another barmaid (considerably younger than Madam Rosmerta), who was cleaning up the nearby tables. "Loves his broom, that Potter. With good reason, too, he's a good flyer."

"Put that down, Blair, and come join," said Fudge.

The barmaid – Blair – had walked off with a tray of dirty tankards and came strutting back, wiping her hands with a cloth that she stuffed into her apron.

"Thanks for the invite, Minister, I could really use a break," said Blair. "This one doesn't give me enough resting time." Liam could tell she was joking. "So, what're we talking about? Quidditch, I suppose."

"Black," said Cornel.

"Oh ... causing a lot of trouble, that Black, with the dementors especially," said Blair.

"We were just talking about that," said Madam Rosmerta.

"Oh, then I suppose you were talking about Potter's incident against Hufflepuff?" asked Blair.

"Not much details, dear Blair," said Cornel in a hushed tone. "We don't want anyone catching on."

"I still can't believe it," said Madam Rosmerta. "If anyone told me that Sirius Black would become one of the Dark Lords's favourites, I would have told you you've had too much mead."

"Those were the good old days," said Blair. By the way Madam Rosmerta had reacted, Liam supposed she was talking about when she was young (which only made him wonder just _how_ young she'd been. She'd looked younger than his mom). "That was a time where freedom meant running around Hogsmeade and visiting the old barman at Hog's Head, not taking five minute naps every now and then."

Cornel, Dreagon and Sunderland laughed. Madam Rosmerta pushed her playfully.

"That was a time you were way too young to work, Missy," said Madam Rosmerta. "And be happy, this job's better than the one my cruddy old brother wanted you to have."

"In any fact, I wouldn't have survived my Hogwarts career if it weren't for you, Blair," said Sunderland. "You kept me informed more than the _Daily_ _Prophet_. Angela refuses to admit it now, but she had to thank you for setting her off with Thomas Clark."

Harry tapped Liam's leg. Blair the barmaid befriended his mother? Not only that, she was probably the reason he was born.

"Yeah ... I could find the perfect match for anybody if you asked," said Blair. "Anybody 'xcept Venus Sting and Sirius Black."

Harry tapped his leg again, only this time hard enough to make a dull thud. Liam stomped his foot to make sure he stayed quiet.

"Those two were the best of friends, Sting and Black –" said Blair.

"Don't forget Thomas Clark and James Potter," said Madam Rosmerta. "They never left each others' sights."

Liam nearly banged his head on the desk. Of course his father would have been best friends with a murderer, he'd lied about it last year, too. And then something clicked. He searched his pockets through and then brought out a capsule. He opened it and unrolled a photograph ... the photograph he'd found in his attic last year.

"What are you doing?" asked Hermione.

" _Ssssh!"_ hissed Liam.

On it showed Venus Sting and Thomas Clark, arm in arm and smiling at the camera. Thomas Clark was winking at his son, expressing his mischievous, playful demeanour. But Liam wasn't focussed on that. He was looking behind the cheerful pair, in the background where two men were frolicking about, zooming in and out of the photograph.

He had noticed a while ago that the two men would momentarily pop their faces in next to Liam's father and his best friend, pulling faces and tousling their hair ... and then they would disappear and resume their races in the background. One had circular glasses and looked remarkably like Harry, and he had identified him as James Potter long since. The other man, though, was a stranger. He looked just as peppy and naughty as the rest of them, and he wasn't at all uncomfortable. He appeared to _belong_ with them.

 _They never left each others' sights._

If Madam Rosmerta was telling the truth, then the man he didn't know had been Sirius Black, the murderer after Harry and his father's best friend.

" – Dumbledore and Glumberry suggested the Fidelius Charm," said Fudge.

"Of course, the Clarks were more dependent on their mansion – good mansion, they've got," said Cornel.

"Yeah, I heard it's smack-bang in the middle of both Muggle and Wizard worlds," said Blair.

"Wait, hang on," said Madam Rosmerta, "What's the Fidelius Charm?"

"An immensely complex spell," Sunderland answered, "involving the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside the chosen person, or Secret-Keeper, and is henceforth impossible to find – unless, of course, the Secret-Keeper chooses to divulge it. As long as the Secret-Keeper refused to speak, You-Know-Who could search the village where Lily and James were staying for years and never find them, not even if he had his nose pressed against their sitting-room window!"

"Black was the Potter's Secret-Keeper, and he gave up the Potters to You-Know-Who?" asked Blair. "Didn't anyone suspect him?"

"Dumbledore and Glumberry suspected someone close to the Potters – and the Clarks – had informed the Dark Lords of their location. Potters we assumed Black, but the Clarks was because they couldn't reach their home in time," said Professor McDonald.

"An' Black betrayed the Potters?" asked Dreagon. "Boy! Wait until Hagrid 'ears about this! That dirty stinkin' scumbag gave him his motorbike! An' no wonder! Hagrid would'o brought little Harry to him! What then?"

"But the Ministry caught him the next day, did they not?" asked Blair.

"We wouldn't have if not for Peter Pettigrew," said Cornel. "Maddened by grief, I heard. He decided to go after Black himself."

"Pettigrew?" asked Madam Rosmerta. "That fat little boy who was always tagging around after them at Hogwarts?"

"Oh, I always thought of him as a little creepy," commented Blair.

"Hero-worshipped Black, Potter, Clark and Sting," said Professor McGonagall. "Never quite in their league, talent-wise. I was often rather sharp with him. You can imagine how I – how I regret that now …"

"Poor lad," said Cornel, facing Blair and Madam Rosmerta again. "Died a hero, he did. An eye-witness, a Muggle – we erased their memory – told us that he saw Pettigrew corner Black, sobbing 'Lily and James, Sirius! How could you!' Went for his wand and of course Black was quicker –"

"Blasted Pettrigrew to smithereens!" Fudge finished.

Liam screwed up his face; that was an answer he expected his father to give him.

"I still have nightmares about it," continued Fudge, "A crater in the middle of the street, so deep it had cracked the sewer below. Bodies everywhere. Muggles screaming. And Black standing there laughing, with what was left of Pettigrew in front of him … a heap of blood-stained robes and a few – a few fragments –"

"He's loyal to both He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and Mr Who, Black is," said Cornel. "I regret to even think that he might be trying to rise them to power again. I barely thought they had a chance alone, but with Black alongside –"

Cornel didn't finish, but Liam knew the rest of the answer. 'The Dark Lords could easily rise with the aid of their most loyal servant.' If Black was trying to bring back the Dark Lords, then it meant that more lives were at stake. He'd heard the stories of the Dark Lords's reign, and none of them had been happy. They tortured and killed innocent people just to show off their power.

"You're dining with Dumbledore and Glumberry, are you not? I think it would be a good idea to head back," said Sunderland.


	12. The Firebolt

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The Firebolt

How was it that no one had told Harry about Black before? How was it that his own uncle and aunt, Dumbledore, even Mr Weasley managed to keep away that his parents were dead because their best friend betrayed them? Mr Clark had told Liam that he lied about Venus Sting because he was ashamed to have him as a friend – up until the point he intercepted them on the Hogwarts grounds to tell them that he hadn't been there to kill Liam. Could it have been the same with Black? If so, Mr Clark had a valid reason. He could understand that. If Harry had befriended someone that caused Liam's death, he would not forgive them nor remember that they ever existed in his life.

But the rest? Aunt Ange knew about Venus Sting, then she must've known Black. Sunderland said she'd been there in Blair's "glory days", meaning she should have been around the same time Black was. He met Cornelius Fudge once in his life and they had talked about a matter concerning the Dursleys and Black, why couldn't he have told him then? Dumbledore and Glumberry obviously knew the story, and Harry had been up in their office far too many times than he was supposed to.

Harry knew Hermione, Ron, Tessa and Liam would want to talk to him about it – especially Liam – but he didn't want to talk to any of them. His parents were dead because Black betrayed them! The only one he knew would understand him was Liam, but even he couldn't fully relate. His parents were still alive, regardless to whether they were captured or not. They could still live another day, smell the fresh air and know that their son would come back home after working tirelessly throughout the year.

He was happy when Percy sat too close to them to have a discussion on Black during dinner, and at the fact that Fred and George caused a Dungbomb explosion in the common room. Harry had gone straight up to the boys' dormitory and found the leather-bound photo album Hagrid had given him for Christmas. With that, he sat on his bed, drew the hangings around him and paged through the dozens of photos of his parents.

"Harry?" came Ron's voice.

Harry lay still, pretending to be asleep. After a while he heard Ron leaving, closing the door behind him.

He continued to page through the photo album, and then he came to the one of his parents' wedding. There was his father waving up at him, beaming, the untidy black hair Harry had inherited standing up in all directions. And his mother, alight with happiness, arm in arm with his Dad. And next to them ... that must have been him ... it must have been Sirius Black. Harry had never given it much thought before.

If Harry hadn't known that Black was their best man, he would never had guessed that this man was Black. His face was handsome, not sunken and waxy. He seemed full of laughter. Harry wondered if he had already been working with the Dark Lords by then. Had he been planning the deaths of the two people standing next to him? Did he realise that he would be facing twelve years in Azkaban, or had he thought he was too good for the Ministry?

"Harry?" this time Liam came in, and he wasn't fooled. "I know you're not asleep. C'mon, we need to talk."

A silenced followed when Harry didn't answer. He waited and hoped that in time Liam would leave, like Ron had. Liam didn't stir, he kept waiting. Harry didn't answer still, and he then heard his cousin shuffling.

"At least take a look at this," said Liam. Harry heard something moving from his bedside table, and then the door closed shortly after.

Harry didn't act immediately. He sat in his bed wondering if what Liam wanted him to see was really worth it. Curiosity got the best of him. He pulled away his hangings and reached for what was on his bedside table, picking up a photograph. He drew the hangings around him again, and looked at the photo.

Liam had told him that his father had a picture of him with Venus when they still thought he was as guilty as Black. He never showed him the picture when they hadn't known the truth about Venus, and he didn't seem to remember it when everything became clear. But now it was in Harry's hands, and he couldn't find the significance about it.

He stared down at the photograph. His Uncle Tom was beaming at him, winking as he always did. Venus stood beside him, arms interlinked. They were both still at Hogwarts here. He could tell by the clothes they were wearing; matching robes with striped ties. They didn't look very old, Harry could say they were about fifteen or sixteen.

There were two men zooming in and out of the photo, as though they were racing each other and trying to cause as much havoc as possible in the process. Then suddenly their faces appeared next to Thomas Clark and Venus Sting. Two boys with black hair, both the same age as his uncle and godfather. One wore circular glasses and incredibly messy hair, resembling Harry so much that he wouldn't have been shocked if he looked exactly like him when he reached age fifteen.

His father's hand ran through Thomas Clark's hair, tousling it until his uncle's curly, brown locks had been just as messy as James Potter's. The other black-haired stranger had grabbed Venus into a headlock, and then ruffled his hair with his fist until Venus grabbed his bearings and pushed him off and out of the frame. James Potter would disappear into the background and, whilst Uncle Tom and Venus neatened up their hair, resumed his chaotic running rampart with who Harry identified as Sirius Black.

Harry stared at the picture five times over just to make sure that the man that had tackled Venus and rumpled his hair had been the notorious Sirius Black. He looked lively and handsome, just as he had been in his mom and dad's wedding photo, although slightly younger. Looking at the mischievous grin on Black's face reminded Harry about when Venus would grin. There was a naughty look on Venus's face whenever he did, like he was planning his next greatest prank.

The photo didn't work as consolation, it only taunted him. Hatred filled Harry as he examined the pictures in his mind. In both, Sirius was laughing at him, provoking him. In the wedding photo, Black's face pulled into a wicked sneer ... and in the other photo, Black holding Venus in a headlock almost looked as though he was intending to strangle him. He pictured Black blasting Peter Pettigrew into tiny little pieces. He could hear (though he had no idea what Black's voice might sound like) a low, excited mutter. 'It has happened, my Lords … the Potters have made me their Secret-Keeper …' And then came another voice, laughing shrilly, the same laugh that Harry heard inside his head whenever the Dementors drew near …

The first thing Harry heard when he walked down to the common room was an outburst of what seemed to be croaks. Liam had collapsed onto the long couch, enduring, yet trying to control, his rapid fit of inflamed coughs. Then he realised that the common room was empty, with the exception of Ron, who had been eating a Peppermint Toad, Liam, who seemed to be putting up a fight with his weak knees, and Hermione and Tessa, who both had their homework spread over eight tables.

"You look terrible," commented Liam.

"You're no ray of sunshine, either," said Harry.

His cousin had gone paler and developed a greyish hue, giving off such a sickly glow that not even his usually-red cheeks were lively.

"Me? I'm fit as a fiddle," declared Liam, sounding as though his nose had thick wads of cotton stuck up it.

"That's one weak fiddle," said Harry.

"You really don't look well, you know," Hermione said, peering anxiously into his face.

"I'm fine," said Harry.

"Harry, listen," said Tessa. She exchanged looks with Hermione, and then with Ron (her eyes flittered to Liam, but she cringed and looked away). "You must be really upset about what you heard yesterday, Liam didn't take it well, either. But – you mustn't do anything stupid."

"Like?" asked Harry.

"Going after Black," said Ron.

This was a very rehearsed conversation, he could hear that, and they seemed to think just like his aunt and uncle, who had stopped him before boarding the Hogwarts Express to make him promise not to do just that. At the time it seemed foolish, but now he didn't know what he wanted to do. He felt an anger purging through him, trying to compel him to take revenge in order to avenge. His parents deserved to live, Black didn't. What Black deserved was what Cornel and Fudge had once offered Venus, a fate worse than death – whatever that meant.

Hermione and Tessa both looked up from their work, concern riddled on their faces. Harry thought he must have stayed silent for a while if it brought Hermione and Tessa away from their work.

"You won't, will you?" asked Hermione.

"'Cause Black's not worth dying for," said Ron.

The only one who didn't chip in his perspective was Liam, who lay hidden behind the backrest of the long couch. Either he was too sick to comprehend the conversation or he was just as upset as Harry was about what he heard – if he didn't take it well, either. Perhaps he would have understood a lot more than Harry thought after all. But at the moment he was talking to Hermione, Ron and Tessa, the three people he knew wouldn't understand.

"D'you know what I see and hear every time a Dementor gets too near me?" Ron, Tessa and Hermione shook their heads, looking apprehensive. There was shuffling on the long couch, meaning Liam was tuned in after all. "I can hear my mum screaming and pleading with Voldemort. And if you'd heard your mum screaming like that, just about to be killed, you wouldn't forget it in a hurry. And if you found out someone who was supposed to be a friend of hers betrayed her and sent Voldemort after her –"

"Harry, you can't do anything," said Tessa, looking stricken.

"The Dementors will catch Black and he'll go back to Azkaban and – and serve him right!" said Hermione, the same expression on.

"Fudge said that Black isn't affected like the rest. It's not a punishment for him," said Harry.

"So what – you want to – to _kill_ Black?" asked Ron.

There was another shuffle on the long couch and Harry could just make out Liam's hair nestled on a pillow lying on the arm.

"Of course he doesn't, Ron! Don't be silly!" said Tessa in a fearful voice.

"Harry doesn't want to kill anyone, do you, Harry?" asked Hermione with just as much panic in her voice.

Harry didn't answer once again. He still didn't know what he wanted to do. All he knew was that doing nothing, whilst Black was free, was more than he could stand. Although, he couldn't help wondering just how uncomfortable his cousin was about this whole situation. Was he truly upset about what Black did? Did he want to avenge James and Lily Potter as much as Harry did? Or was Harry's absence of voice frightening him just as much as Hermione, Ron and Tessa?

"Black's dangerous, Harry," raised Ron furiously. "If you go after him you might end up like Pettigrew. D'you know what his mother got after Black was finished with him? Dad told me – the Order of Merlin, First Class, and Pettigrew's finger in a box. That was the biggest bit of him they could find. Black's a madman, Harry, and he's dangerous! If you –"

"I bet Malfoy and the McElroys know!" blurted Harry.

Another shuffle on the long couch.

"Their fathers were both in the Dark Lords's inner circle – they must've told them about Black," said Harry. "They obviously knew about Black –"

"– and they'd just about do anything to see you blown into about a million pieces, like Pettigrew! Get a grip, those three are just hoping you'll get yourself killed before Malfoy has to play you at Quidditch."

"Harry please," said Hermione, her eyes now shining with tears, "please be sensible –"

"– Black did a terrible, terrible thing," said Tessa, tearing up, too, "but d-don't put yourself in danger, it's what Black wants –"

"– Oh, Harry, you'd be playing right into Black's hands if you went looking for him –"

"– Your mum and dad wouldn't want you to get hurt, would they? They'd never want you to go looking for Black!"

"I'll never know what they'd have wanted because, thanks to Black, I've never spoken to them," said Harry shortly.

Another silence, another shuffle. Crookshanks, Hermione's furry orange cat, had leaped onto the window sill nearby and stretched, flexing his claws. Ron's pocket quivered.

"Look," said Ron, obviously casting around for a change of subject, "it's the holidays! It's nearly Christmas! Let's – let's go down and see Hagrid and Dreagon. We haven't visited them for ages!"

"No!" said Hermione and Tessa quickly.

Hermione continued, "Harry isn't supposed to leave the castle, Ron –"

"Yeah, let's go," said Harry, sitting up, "and I can ask Hagrid how come he never mentioned Black when he told me all about my parents!"

Further discussion of Sirius Black plainly wasn't what Ron had had in mind, nor was it in Liam's because there was another shuffle. Judging by the position of his head, Liam's back was against the backrest, as if to say he wasn't going to come if they were going to talk about Black again.

In any fact, Harry wouldn't have gone after Black even if he could. As stupid as it may sound, he sealed the Lightning Promise with his uncle, and by the way Liam reacted when he explained it, breaking a Lightning Promise wasn't something you even thought about doing.

If anything frightened Liam more than spiders and Ronan Droge it was Harry's life in danger. He'd lost his uncle and aunt and he was sure he didn't want to lose his cousin. He cared for him, even if it didn't seem like he was the type. Harry was someone who could always get Liam. He could always count on Harry to understand in his times of trouble, but what bothered him was that Harry might not have thought the same.

Liam sometimes thought that Harry doubted he could trust him. The thought was almost absurd, but when he walked into the boy's dormitory last night to talk to Harry, it was almost as though any existence of the belief was never real. He knew Harry was awake. He knew because the two of them were so alike. If he was in Harry's position, he wouldn't have slept, either. There was too much to take in, too much to think about ... sleeping seemed ridiculous at a point like that.

Even for Liam, sleep was hard to come by. His father had lied to him once about the relationship between him and Venus Sting, and now he'd kept the same secret about Sirius Black, too. Liam began to wonder whether he could trust his father. He'd lied twice about the same thing, that he'd been friends with a murderer. Why lie about something like that? Why tell your son, right in his face, that the man that stood beside him in a photo was just some Slytherin jerk he didn't know. Why not mention he at least knew Sirius Black and Venus Sting? Why say he didn't know the two best friends he'd ever had?

Liam had anger for his father for not telling him, but then it cooled down when he realised his father wasn't the only one at blame. His mother had known Black, too, and she kept quiet about the matter. Professor Sunderland, who was one of his favourite teachers alongside Von Seiler and perhaps the most talkative one of all, had been at Hogwarts the same time Black had been and he hadn't yet heard her say his name. But the one he was most furious with, the one whose anger had been converted from his father, was Venus Sting.

James Potter, Thomas Clark, Venus Sting and Sirius Black were the best of friends, according to Madam Rosmerta and Blair. He could forgive his father for not telling the truth, he wasn't at Hogwarts. Venus was. He was also his godfather and Liam could trust him as much as he did his parents. And Liam could tell Venus knew he was trusted. Why persist in his teaching career if he didn't? He had all the time in the world to tell Harry and Liam about Black. That he was locked away not only for clearing a street of innocent lives, but because he worked with the Dark Lords, telling Lord Voldemort where the Potters were in order to have them killed.

 _They never left each others' sights._

Madam Rosmerta's words made it seem like the four of them had been the best of friends, that everyone knew that Potter, Clark, Black and Sting would stand arm in arm until the end. Had the Potter's death seem like such a momentous occasion for Black? Had he been happy when they'd been killed, and did he realise he put the life of an innocent young boy on the line?

Liam wondered what mishap might have strayed such a strong relationship. What had happened to Black to force him into betraying his best friend? What had happened to make Black kill James and Lily Potter?

He set the thoughts aside as he slept, and the anger that enraged him the previous night was gone. However, once he got out of bed, every bit of his body ached. He had a splitting headache that nearly brought tears to his eyes. He could barely lift his arms to hold the bedside table in order to stop his knees from buckling. He had to muster most of his withering efforts to walk, and more of it to prevent rolling down the stairs to the common room. From then on, he flopped onto the long couch and never stopped coughing since.

Until Harry had come looking like he did. When he spoke, it reminded Liam about the thought that ran through his mind the previous night. It frightened him to know that if his mind was set to last night's thoughts he would have wanted to go after Black, too. He sorely wanted to meet his Uncle James and Aunt Lily, avenging them seemed the better option. But what frightened him most was that Harry wanted to put his own life in danger. He couldn't lose him, too.

When Ron had suggested that they go visit Hagrid and Dreagon, Liam was up for it. But when Harry had mentioned that he was going to ask Hagrid why he never told him about Black, he managed to pull himself around on the long couch to maybe gesture that he didn't want to come if they were going to talk about Black again.

However, he could use some enlightenment and perhaps Hagrid and Dreagon would successfully evade a conversation about Black. Although he doubted there would be any kind of happy discussion when they arrived at the giants's hut – which resembled much of an iced cake.

Liam took his potions before leaving to ensure that he could at least move without his knees locking every other time, and he knocked the door to prove that he was just as he said: fit as a fiddle. There was no answer.

"They can't have gone out, could they?" asked Hermione, who was shivering under her cloak.

"I can't imagine anyone would go out with the Dementors," said Tessa, whose nose was as red as her hair.

Ron put his ear to the door.

"I can hear something," said Ron, screwing up his face, "weird, though. Listen."

Harry, Hermione and Tessa put their ears to the door, Liam didn't want to risk falling over again.

"Now come, Rubi," said Dreagon, who was talking over what seemed to be sobs, "I'll dish you some of me grandmum's best Baumunchen Sugar Cake!"

In that instance, Liam smelt something delightful, despite the cold, thin air. It smelt of freshly made wafer, cream, strawberry and a tinge of something he couldn't identify, but was just as wonderful to smell. He was amazed at how much he could smell considering his nose was blocked up. He sniffed and looked up at the chimney, which was emitting a sort of pinkish smoke.

"Maybe we should –" began Hermione, but Harry yelled.

"Hagrid! Dreagon! Open up! It's us!"

There was a sound of heavy footsteps, then the door creaked open. Dreagon stood there wearing an apron over his leather waistcoat that was smeared with a sticky, pink-creamy colour. He looked surprised to see them.

"Yeh've heard, I suppose?" asked Dreagon grimly. He stepped aside to let them in and the strawberry wafer pancakey smell overwhelmed Liam so much that his knees nearly buckled again. His eyes immediately turned to the fire where a large cauldron hung, bubbling with the same pinkish smoke he saw outside.

"Err – have a seat, I guess," said Dreagon wiping his hands on his sticky apron. "Baumunchen Sugar Cake. Dreagon recipe fir years," he said with a smile, pointing at the cauldron. "Dunno why it's called a cake. Nothin' 'bout it is spongey. All creamy and liquid, I'll say – but it's good. I followed me grandmum's recipe. As ripe as I'll ever 'member it."

Liam doubted anything Dreagon made was anywhere near good, but the smell of his baking seemed too good to turn it down.

"An' if yer want, der's some Christmas Eggnog I made earlier," said Dreagon, but Liam knew he must have added at least a little alcohol. "Didn' add too much alcohol, just a little. Hagrid an' I aren' too keen on drinkin' much over Christmas. Too much festive cheer ter drink."

"Where's Hagrid?" asked Harry. Liam was afraid his determination to question Hagrid about Black was still fresh in his mind.

"Waitin' fir the cake ter finish," said Dreagon in an entirely different tone. "Upset 'bout Buckbeak."

"Why? What happened?" asked Tessa.

"'Member Draco's little scratch he got from Buckbeak?" asked Dreagon. They all nodded. "He told his father and he brought it up with the Ministry ... as though their little inspection wasn' enough."

"Mr Malfoy and Mr McElroy inspected you?" asked Liam. He remembered that day. It was the same day that man – or Sargas Scorpiosting – came to warn them about the school becoming ill.

"Yeah," sulked Dreagon gruffly. "They said they'd be lookin' 'round the Hippogriff paddocks for signs o' harm. They found me garden an' learnt all me plants were fertilised in Mooncalf dung. Then they found me Mooncalf, Moonbeam, just grazing the grass in her own little stable. Told me it was illegal ter be restrain' a Mooncalf without registration, I told them they can file a complaint with the Headmasters. Dumbledore an' Glumberry registered Moonbeam, you see. I'm surprised she came out of her burrow. Mooncalves only come out during a full moon."

"And what about Buckbeak?" asked Hermione.

"Buckbeak? Oh, poor Rubeus!" said Dreagon. He gave her a letter.

 _Dear Mr Hagrid,_

 _Further to our inquiry into the attack by a Hippogriff on a student in your class, we have accepted the assurances of Professor Dumbledore_ _and Professor Glumberry_ _that you bear no responsibility for the regrettable incident._

 _However, we must register our concern about the Hippogriff in question. We have decided to uphold the official complaint of Mr Lucius Malfoy, and this matter will therefore be taken to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. The hearing will take place on April 20th, and we ask you to present yourself and your Hippogriff at the Committee_ _'_ _s offices in London on that date. In the meantime, the Hippogriff should be kept tethered and isolated._

 _Yours in fellowship_ _…_

A long list of the school governors followed after.

"But Buckbeak's not dangerous!" said Ron.

"Yeah, Malfoy's just a baby!" added Liam.

"Yeh don' know them gargoyles at the Committee fer the Disposal o' Dangerous Creatures!' said Dreagon. "They've got it in fer interestin' creatures! I was surprised when tha' no good ferret Ellington didn' take away Moonbeam."

A sudden sound from the corner of Hagrid's cabin made Harry, Ron, Liam, Tessa and Hermione whip around. Buckbeak the Hippogriff was lying in the corner, chomping on something that was oozing blood all over the floor.

"We couldn' leave him tied up in the snow," said Dreagon. "He'd be all on his on. On Christmas."

"You'll have to put up a good strong defence," said Hermione. "I'm sure you can prove Buckbeak is safe."

"Won' make no diff'rence," said Dreagon. "Them Disposal devils, they're all in Lucius Malfoy's pocket! Scared o' him! An' if I lose the case, Buckbeak – Buckbeak meets an unfortunate turnout."

Liam could guess what he meant by that.

"What about Dumbledore and Glumberry?" said Harry.

"They've done more'n enough fer us already," groaned Dreagon. "Got enough on their plate what with keepin' them Dementors outta the castle, an' Sirius Black lurkin' around –"

Liam looked at Harry, and he wasn't the only one. Hermione, Ron and Tessa had the same idea. He half-expected Harry demand Hagrid's presence in order to reproach him for not telling him about Black, though he could sense that Harry wouldn't have had the heart to do it, even if Hagrid had been with them.

"What about your parents, Liam?" asked Harry. It was both an attempt to help and to stop the rest from looking at him. "They got Venus out of jail, how much d'you want to bet they could help Buckbeak?"

"I wouldn't count on that," said Liam. Three owls already and none had a response.

"Eh, yeh parents are too busy anyway," said Dreagon. "Look, Hagrid hasn' been himself lately. An' I don' think people like our lessons, either. An' them damn Dementors aren' makin' anything better. Reminds us both of our time in Azkaban."

Dreagon looked away for a moment. Liam, Harry, Hermione, Ron and Tessa sat silently. They had never heard Dreagon or Hagrid talk about their time in Azkaban.

"I don' – err – don't want ter go back to tha' cruddy prison," said Dreagon gruffly. "And I don' think Hagrid would like ter either."

It was wishful thinking, but Harry and Liam sent an owl to Mr and Mrs Clark anyway. Dreagon seemed pretty upset about it and Hagrid couldn't have been any better. It was the best chance they got but not the only. The following day, Ron, Hermione, Liam, Harry and Tessa went to the library and returned to the common room with a countless numbers of books. They spent the entire day looking through dusty volumes about famous cases of marauding beasts, speaking occasionally when they ran across something relevant.

Despite the fact that nearly everyone had left for the holidays, Hogwarts had been decorated for Christmas. Mysterious lights shone from inside every suit of armour, which all held candy cane weapons and wore gingerbread badges. The corridors had thick streamers of holly and mistletoe were strung along the corridors and the Great Hall was filled with its usual twelve Christmas trees, glittering with golden stars.

On Christmas morning, Liam was woken up by Ron. He had thrown a pillow at him.

"Oi! Presents!"

Liam's eyes fixed on the mound of presents on the foot of his bed. He was hopeful that his parents may have sent him and Harry something for Christmas, which would have cleared his one theory of why his parents hadn't been communicating with them: that something may have happened to them. But he searched through his presents for his mother's elegant cursive or his father's big, sloven print and he found nothing. Since he heard of what Black did, Liam couldn't help but think that he had his parents in captivity, ready to use them as leverage should he need to. He was scared to think that Sirius Black had remade what Ronan Droge had done.

They would have been the second set of best friends Black would have betrayed.

Liam decided to put the thought aside and replace it with something more welcoming. His parents were just busy, that's all. They were always busy.

Harry, Liam and Ron all got jumpers from Mrs Weasley. It had been his first present from the Weasley family and he had to say he probably appreciated it more than Ron and Harry combined. He was sick and cold all the time, and he hadn't brought much jackets and sweaters because his mother usually sent at the beginning of winter, so his blue jumper with a green 'L' in the middle had made his day.

"Fits," said Liam as he slipped it on.

With that he tucked himself tight in his bed and dug into the dozen home-baked mince pies, some Christmas cake and a box of nut brittle.

"What's that?" said Ron.

"Dunno …" said Harry.

He had heard the rough crinkle of the wrapper.

"I don't believe it," said Harry hoarsely. Liam didn't have time to look up before his cousin said, "Liam?"

"What –" his eyes bulged and his mouth hung open. Liam goggled at the broom for far too long. And then he saw Harry was looking at him with a smile on his face, and his heart sank as he realised that his cousin had thought _he_ had bought the broom for him. "I didn't get it for you."

Harry's face fell, "B-but you said it yourself. Back in Diagon Alley – you said one day –"

"B-but _I_ couldn't afford it," said Liam, stricken.

"Then who sent it?" asked Harry.

"Err – Glumberry – Dumbledore?" asked Liam.

"Yeah, Dumbledore got you the Cloak ..." said Ron, hopefully.

"But the Cloak was my father's," said Harry. "He was just passing it down to me."

"Lupin?" asked Ron.

"I can't imagine Lupin buying something like this. Too much gold," said Liam, thinking. "Perhaps Venus?"

"Maybe," said Harry. "He _is_ our godfather ..."

"But then again he would have been more than happy to put his name on it," said Liam.

"And he would have bought you something equal the price – which would have probably bankrupted him," said Harry.

"Maybe mum and dad?" asked Liam. "They may have gotten you something with the money in our vault."

"Would they have had enough?" asked Harry.

"Dunno ... part of the reason I didn't use the money was because I wasn't sure I was allowed to use that much," said Liam.

"Did you get anything from them?" asked Harry.

"No ... which means they _didn't_ get it for you," said Liam.

"Who sent you that?" asked Hermione, who had barged in with Tessa, Crookshanks cradled in her arm.

"Must have cost them a fortune," said Tessa.

"We don't know," said Liam.

The three of them were surprised when both Tessa and Hermione did not appear either excited or intrigued by this news. Their faces fell and Hermione bit her lip.

"What's the matter with you two?" asked Ron.

"I don't know," said Hermione slowly, "but it's a bit odd, isn't it? I mean, this is supposed to be quite a good broom, isn't it?"

Ron sighed exasperatedly.

"It's the _best_ broom there is, Hermione," he said.

"So it must've been really expensive …"

"Probably cost more than all the Slytherins' brooms put together," said Ron happily.

"I get where you're going Hermione," said Liam. Hermione didn't seem to like the fact that he caught on, and Ron wasn't getting it still. "But no one would spend that amount of money on Harry just to harm him. It's just a broom, it won't do anything to him."

Before Hermione could rebuke him, Crookshanks sprang from her arms, right at Ron's chest.

"GET – HIM – OUT – OF – HERE!" yelled Ron. Crookshanks's claws ripped his pyjamas and Scabbers was scrambling away behind his shoulder to safety. Ron grabbed Scabbers by the tail and then tried to kick at Crookshanks, but narrowly missed and instead got Harry's trunk, which fell and landed on the floor. Ron hopped about on the spot, howling in pain.

Liam, snug in his bed and away from the chaos, had put his fingers in his ears. A shrill, metallic whistling was filling the room. Harry's Pocket Sneakoscope had become dislodged from Uncle Vernon's old socks and was whirling and gleaming on the floor. It wasn't loud for Liam, it was just very spontaneous and annoying.

"I forgot about that," said Harry, picking up the Sneakoscope, which whistled in his palm. Crookshanks was hissing at it.

"You better get that cat out of here, Hermione," scolded Ron furiously. "Can't you shut that thing up!"

Hermione and Tessa strode out of the room with Crookshanks, and Harry had stuffed his Sneakoscope back in his socks, throwing it back in his trunk. Ron had been nursing his toe on the foot of Harry's bed, Scabbers huddled in his hands.

"Cosy much?" Harry asked Liam.

"Very," replied Liam, with a content smile. "That rat of yours doesn't look too good."

Ron had told him once that his rat was so fat he could barely carry him around in his chest pocket, but he had hard time believing that since that very same rat was now very skinny; patches of fur seemed to have fallen out, too.

"It's stress!" said Ron. "He'd be fine if that bloody furball left him alone!"

There wasn't much Christmas spirit in the Gryffindor common room. Hermione locked Crookshanks in the girl's dorm, but she wasn't very happy with Ron for trying to kick him. Ron, however, was not pleased that Crookshanks had tried eating Scabbers, and Harry gave up trying to get them to talk to each other. He sat with his Firebolt on one of the armchairs because Liam had brought down his blanket and was snug on the long couch, dozing off with the heat of the fire on his face. Tessa was reading a book – was that that stupid romance book she was fretting about last year – on an armchair nearby Liam.

At lunchtime they found that the house tables in the Great Hall had been moved aside, and a single table stood in the middle of the room. Professors Dumbledore, Glumberry, Snape, Flitwick, Sprout, Von Seiler, McDonald, and McGonagall were there, along with Filch and Gray. There had only been three other students: a very nervous-looking first year, a very grumpy-looking Slytherin fifth-year and –

"Violet?" asked Liam. "How come you're never in the common room?"

"I went for the holidays and came back today," said Violet. "My mom's really busy and my dad's been really sick so I couldn't make it home for Christmas because mom would be off for some work-related things and she didn't want to leave me with dad, so she sent me back. They wanted to see me at least."

"Please, have a seat, will you?" said Glumberry, gesturing to five seats at the table. "Merry Christmas."

"Well, tuck in," said Dumbledore. "Victor, the kitchens have prepared a spectacular meal for you. Foxglove duck seasoned with borage, mistletoe and lovage –"

"Isn't lovage practical for inflaming the brain?" asked Hermione, looking doubtfully at the duck that was specially set aside for Professor Von Seiler.

"You forget that I'm the living dead, dear Hermione," said Von Seiler.

"They've also prepared your favourite Gurdyroot gravy to go with it," said Glumberry. "And for dessert: Goosegrass Christmas cake with a tinge of Vervain."

"Isn't Vervain poisonous to vampires?" asked Liam.

"No, it's most commonly used to heal bites from big dogs or werewolves," said Von Seiler. "But I wouldn't blame you if you mistook it for a similar substance that _is_ quite poisonous to vampires. Venenare, but it is only poisonous to the Sampiro Hirudo – Pumilio for the blood-suckers."

"Oh," said Liam.

"In fact, the school has a protective barrier laced with Venenare to prevent the bloodthirsty vampires from breaching the school grounds, to keep from students becoming vampires themselves, of course," continued Von Seiler.

"We've also planted Lamiconitum trees in the Forbidden Forest, limiting the place in which the Sampiro Hirudo can wander," said Professor Sprout, whose patched and battered hat was set beside her on the table. Her robes were cleaner than usual, but they were still covered in dirt and earth. "Vampires have an aversion to the Lamiconitum trees as it is highly poisonous to them, so we've aimed to plant large ones because the bigger the tree, the more land it takes up and thus keeping vampires far away from Hogwarts."

"Not to you, of course, professor?" Liam asked Von Seiler.

"Oh, no. Lamiconitum berries are one of the Veggie Vampire's favourite dishes," said Von Seiler, pouring his Gurdyroot gravy all over his Foxglove duck. "You have to understand there are differences between Sampiro Hirudo and Sampiro Olus."

"Sorry I'm late!" boomed Professor Bud's voice from across the hall. He came bobbling in, his long robes dragging across the floor and his pot-plant hat bouncing from side to side; Liam feared it would fall and break. "I mistakenly fertilised my Tentacula leaves with Flobberworm mucus."

"Oh dear," gasped Professor Sprout.

When he came closer, Liam could see dozens and dozens of bite marks on his face and hands, and his glasses were more skew than usual.

"They weren't very friendly after that," said Professor Bud. "Again, apologies for my tardiness."

"It's not a problem, Benjamin, have a seat," said Professor Dumbledore.

The gawky professor wobbled to a seat next to Professor Sprout, adjusted his pot-plant hat and his glasses, then dug in – countlessly missing the plate of roast with the poker and nearly getting Violet instead.

"Speaking of late staff, would any of you happen to know where Scarlet, Remus and Venus are?" asked Glumberry.

"Not to forget Wilber," said Dumbledore.

"Wilber has gone to meet some family of his, as did Venus," said Snape. "Remus has fallen sick once more."

"And Scarlet has gone to spend Christmas with her sister, Lisa," squeaked Flitwick.

"Speaking of the ill," said Glumberry, "Liam, are you well?"

"Hmm – yeah – yeah – sorry," said Liam, a faded hint of red flushed his gaunt cheeks. "Fine – been taking my potions regularly – double dosages."

"Good," said Dumbledore.

Two hours later, the feast was over and Harry, Liam and Ron rose to leave first. Dumbledore and Glumberry made it very fun with bursting crackers. Harry was fortunate enough to open a cracker with Glumberry, and Liam got to open one with Von Seiler.

"May the rest of your Christmas be good," said Glumberry, beaming as Liam had finished taking the last of his potions.

"Thank you, Headmaster," said Liam, who still hadn't recovered from taking two helpings of the Byrrus Potion.

"Coming?" Ron asked Hermione and Tessa.

"No," said Hermione.

"We just want a quick word with Professor McDonald and Professor McGonagall," said Tessa.

"All right," said Harry, and he, Liam and Ron went off to the Gryffindor Tower.

When they reached the portrait hole they found Sir Cadogan enjoying a Christmas party with a couple of monks, several previous headmasters of Hogwarts and his fat pony. He pushed up his visor and toasted them with a flagon of mead.

"Merry – hic – Christmas! Password?"

"Scurvy cur," said Ron.

The door swung open and Harry immediately went up to the dormitory, got his Firebolt and the broomstick servicing kit Hermione had gotten him for his birthday and brought them back down. He tried to find something to do with it, but the broom was already in perfect condition that there was nothing to do. Harry and Ron sat admiring it, whilst Liam nearly dozed off on the long couch, already cocooned in his blanket. However, the moment Hermione and Tessa walked in with Professors McGonagall and McDonald, Liam seemed to forget that he was drowsy.

He sat up, although still wrapped in the blanket, and watched as the two Heads of Gryffindor House strolled in. He had never seen either of them in the common room before, so it must have meant trouble. What he found curious was that Hermione sat and hid herself behind a book – which was upside down – and Tessa disappeared behind them, sitting in the darkest corner of the common room where all their homework had previously been.

"Miss Granger and Miss Williams have just informed us that you were sent a broomstick, Potter," said Professor McGonagall, gazing warily at Harry's Firebolt.

Ron and Harry looked at Hermione. Liam imagined she must have been going pink behind that upside down book of hers.

"May I?" asked Professor McDonald, but she didn't wait for Harry to give it to her, she took it out of his hands. "And there was no note, Potter?"

"No," said Harry directly.

"I see ..." said Professor McGonagall, peering over McDonald's shoulder at the perfect broomstick she held in her hands. "Well, we're afraid we are going to have to take this, Potter."

"What!" Harry yelled, standing. "Why?"

"It has to be checked for curses and jinxes," said McDonald. "I'm sure Madam Hooch, Professor Flitwick and Professor Sunderland would oblige to doing it."

"But Sunderland's off for the holidays!" said Ron.

"Which is why we're not promising an early return," said Professor McGonagall. "I daresay they might need to strip it down."

"Strip it down?" repeated Ron.

"But, Professor –"

"No buts, Potter, it's for your own safety," said Professor McDonald. Her hawkish features seemed to keep Harry and Ron at bay.

The two professors walked out of the common room with Harry's Firebolt in hand. Liam's eyes had gone to Tessa and Hermione. He knew what they were thinking from the moment they laid eyes on that broomstick. Harry gets sent the thing he most wanted by an unknown benefactor, and it just so happens that he has a murderer on his tail.

Ron turned to Hermione, probably because she was the closest, and asked, "Why'd you two go running off to McDonald and McGonagall for?"

Liam answered, "Because they think it was sent by Sirius Black."


	13. Draco's Delusion

CHAPTER TWELVE

Draco's Delusion

 _Dear Harry and Liam,_

 _Regarding your request to undergo extra lessons relating to warding off Dementors, we would like to start off the lessons at eight o'clock, Thursday evening._

 _Please meet us in the History of Magic classroom._

 _Kind regards,_

 _Venus and Lupin._

Harry hadn't expected something so formal, especially since Liam identified the handwriting as Venus's, but apart from that, he was happy that they were starting off with the Anti-Dementor lessons. He was worrying about Gryffindor's next match against Ravenclaw. If there was another Dementor attack during the match, then Harry would be prepared to defend himself. But he didn't seem to be the only one who worried.

The common room gradually became full again after New Year. The usual noisy bustle of Gryffindor students, ranging from first years to seventh years, made it feel like home again. Among them was Oliver Wood, who had a chat with Harry before the term started.

"I've been thinking over Christmas, Harry," began Wood. "After the last match, you know. If the Dementors come to the next match, and they – well – they –"

"Don't worry, Wood, I've got it handled," said Harry. "Professor Lupin and Professor Sting are going to help me ward off the Dementors. We're starting this week – Thursday."

"Excellent," said Wood with a wide grin. "I really didn't want to lose you as a Seeker, Harry – the subs aren't nearly as good. With them, the first time we'll ever see the Snitch is in the Ravenclaw Seeker's hands. Anyway ... have you ordered a new broom yet?"

"No," said Harry flatly.

"What! Harry, you've got to get a move on – the match is close, hey – you can't be playing with that ancient Shooting Star against Ravenclaw! 'Specially when Breeanne Shacklebolt's in the team," said Wood.

"He got a Firebolt for Christmas," said Ron.

"A – a _Firebolt?"_ blurted Wood. "An actual – Firebolt?"

"Don't get your hopes up," said Harry, grimly, "it was confiscated." And he explained all about Professor McDonald and Professor McGonagall taking the broom away on Christmas day, having it examined for any signs of curses or jinxes.

"Jinxed? How could it be jinxed?"

"Sirius Black," said Harry. "Black's coming after me, right? McDonald and McGonagall reckon he might have sent it."

"Where would a man like Black get that kind of money?" Wood asked absentmindedly. "More so, how could a man on the run simply walk into Quality Quidditch Supplies, buy a broomstick and manage to send you the broom without being caught?"

"Dunno," said Harry. "But McGonagall and McDonald still want to strip it down."

Wood's face went pale.

"I'll talk to McGonagall and McDonald – I'll make them see – they want Gryffindor to win this just as much as I do – I'll make them see, don't you worry, Harry – you'll get your Firebolt in no time – a Firebolt – that's gonna help a lot against Ravenclaw."

Harry couldn't stop thinking about his broomstick, and why it wasn't with him that very moment. He knew that Hermione and Tessa meant well, but that didn't stop him from being angry with them. He had the best broom in the world, he _owned_ a Firebolt and because of what the two of them did, Harry wasn't sure if he would ever see that magnificent broom again. There had been nothing wrong with the broom. It wasn't jinxed, hexed or cursed. It was a normal broom with such a fine, polished handle. Harry feared the state it would be in once it had been exposed to all sort of anti-jinx tests.

Ron wasn't too happy with them either. Eventually Hermione and Tessa avoided the common room, Harry suspected that they went to the library instead. Ron didn't mind that, he didn't want them around, especially if Hermione had Crookshanks with her. During conversations, Ron would say some nasty things about them that Harry didn't think was necessary and Liam wasn't too comfortable about.

Liam didn't seem comfortable about most things, recently. He didn't even seem comfortable to walk around on his own two feet. It appeared he doubted their capability to walk. He was pale, as usual, and not a single flush of red flowed through his body. Harry once half-believed that Liam had wandered off into the Forbidden Forest, where those Lamiconitum trees were planted, just to be bitten by a vampire, but then again he was sure his cousin would have dreaded to meet another Acromantula. He barely coughed, but when he did it seemed as though it would never stop – and that Liam could barely breathe.

But he wasn't the only one in bad condition. Most of the students were pale. Some were scratching themselves as though they had recently gone hunting through fields of poison ivy, some coughed just as much as Liam did, some were walking like their feet were treading through sticky, impenetrable mud.

Harry got a sense of just how serious this sickness was getting. A few days after New Year, Harry overheard a group of seventh years – which consisted mainly of sniffing, greyish boys who coughed in deaf harmony – saying that their parents weren't going to allow them to come back to Hogwarts, but they had forced their way back by saying they had NEWTs coming up.

Classes resumed the next day and Liam didn't like standing out in the cold looking after thin lizards that could set themselves ablaze. If Hagrid and Dreagon thought Salamanders could provide a good source of heat, they were wrong. Liam wore Mrs Weasley's jumper under his school jersey and still he felt cold. Not to mention he had his robes over them.

Divination was a complete waste of time – as always. They began palmistry and Liam wasn't liking the fact that he and Harry had the shortest life-line she had ever seen (like he couldn't guess that). Apart from that, her heavily perfumed classroom nearly choked him – considering his breathing had since become thin – and it resulted in another splitting headache, which were one of the things he frequently endured.

In addition to that, Trelawney had ended off the lesson with a frightening message: "Mend the bone too thick to work, the Potter kid will end in hurt. Break the chest filled with the secrets within. Cure the plague or Clark will give in."

Of course, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil both took that seriously, as they had believed anything Trelawney said since the death of Lavender's pet bunny Binky, but Liam just found that it made his headache worse; he was a little nauseous as he left the classroom. During lunch, he couldn't eat because he spent most his time choking on the cold air, trying to get used to what he had to live through again.

It left him time to observe. His eyes flittered around the Great Hall as cutlery clanked against cookery, and they stopped at the Slytherin table where he saw Dmitri McElroy tending to a very annoyed Draco Malfoy – who, surprisingly, looked almost as pale as Liam was. In an instance, Draco was rapidly scratching behind his ear which made him look like a dog. There were uncanny red patches around his skin, as though he was recovering from an allergic reaction, and then Liam remembered something.

During the holiday, shortly after his father got Scorpiosting's chest, Liam had been through a period where he had been incredibly itchy in every aspect of his body. When he went inside to check it out with his parents, they told him not to worry and that it was probably an allergic reaction to something outside, or perhaps a poisonous plant that made anyone who made direct contact with it itch.

Liam had taken it as a symptom of Scorpiosting's sickness ever since Von Seiler had listed them for him. And he couldn't help thinking that Draco had been fiddling with the chest that very same night.

It was Defence Against the Dark Arts next and Liam still had the bubbling urge to ask Venus why he never told them about Black. He was determined to do it before the class would start, but couldn't find himself to do it in front of so many students – especially since they had class with the Slytherins that day – so he decided that he would ask him on Thursday when they were alone in the Anti-Dementor lessons.

They were halfway through a lesson on Fwoopers, an African bird with extremely vivid plumage whose song can drive the listener to insanity, when Draco suddenly outburst into an argument with, he first assumed Adrian, no one in particular.

"Now, we wouldn't advise that you get yourself a Fwooper as a pet," said Lupin. "It's got a level three Ministry classification, meaning that a competent wizard should be able to cope with it. To have one requires a licence, as the Fwooper must be handled responsibly –"

"Shut up, idiot!"

The class fell silent and looked behind them at Draco Malfoy, who appeared to be frowning at the outraged Professor Lupin.

"I beg your pardon, Mr Malfoy –"

"Watch your tongue! Do you think I'm an old man?" Malfoy burst.

Liam looked at Lupin, who wasn't very happy with Malfoy's sudden crude behaviour.

"Mr Malfoy, I do not tolerate your –"

"Oh be quiet, you speak forever!" Malfoy blurted. "And whatever you say is always rubbish!"

"Mr Malfoy –"

"What's the matter with you?" Malfoy asked, looking incredulously at Lupin. "She deserves to be seen."

Lupin's anger disappeared.

"She?" he asked, puzzled.

"No one's going to believe you!"

"You're not talking to me, are you?" asked Lupin, staring at Malfoy with concern.

"Why wouldn't they believe me, it's standing right there! How could they miss it!" Malfoy yelled.

"Draco, what's standing right there?" asked Lupin.

"Oh, I don't know ... maybe because it's _not_ there!" yelled Malfoy.

"Malfoy –"

"You're such a nagger, you are! Always think you're better than me!" said Malfoy. "Well let me tell you this, wise guy, I know more than you do! I've always know more than you do!"

Liam screwed up his face and turned to Harry.

"Who's he talking to?" Liam asked.

Harry shrugged, and they both looked back at Malfoy.

"Mr Malfoy, what is it that you want us to see?" asked Lupin.

"Rainbow, of course," said Malfoy.

"Rainbow?" Liam muttered to Harry.

"They don't know who Rainbow is, you dolt!" Malfoy argued.

"Malfoy," said Sting. "Would you mind telling us who Rainbow is?"

"Rainbow's our pet unicorn – oh would you shut up!" Malfoy snapped at himself.

The class burst into laughter and Malfoy had a puzzled expression on, as if his two minds were trying to determine which one of himself the students were laughing at. Liam joined too, but he remembered this process. This was possibly the biggest sign that Draco Malfoy had Scorpiosting's sickness. He'd known that because he went mad once, too. He vaguely remembered what he saw during that stage, something about a pterodactyl and Bertie Bops Every-Flavoured Beans ...

 _I'm glad mine didn't happen at school_ , Liam thought. He felt that he should be embarrassed for Malfoy, but his hatred for the Slytherin boy had overwhelmed that feeling and only made him want to laugh more. 

Defence Against the Dark Arts set his mood for Charms. His positive attitude, despite his headache, made him look forward to whatever Flitwick and Sunderland had for them that day. The fact that he received many smiles from Professor Sunderland made him content with his performance, and he didn't even mind his headache.

Until, of course, they returned to the common room.

"Lupin doesn't look too good," said Ron. "What d'you think is wrong with him?"

There was a loud and impatient 'tuh' behind them. It was Hermione and Tessa, who both seemed to be preparing to leave for the library.

"What's up with you two?" asked Ron. He had said it with a lot of unnecessary anger. "Reckon you two know what's up with Lupin?"

"It doesn't matter –" said Hermione, shouldering her bag.

"Tell us!"

Hermione straightened up with a book lodged in her arms, "Isn't it obvious?" Liam could tell that the question was aimed at Ron and no one else. When Ron hadn't answered, she said, "Well, I suppose someone like _you_ wouldn't know, would they?"

Tessa was already at the door as if to say arguing wasn't worth the wait, especially if you had mounds and mounds of homework to cover.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Ron was obviously furious, and Liam had a feeling that it wasn't only because Hermione had called him stupid. He could feel something bad was going to happen, "You big-mouthed, know-it-all _rat-killer!"_

" _Ron!"_ spat Liam, louder than anticipated as it did no justice for his headache. In no moment at all, Hermione had pushed past them with great speed and she and Tessa left without another word. She was upset, and in that moment a burning sensation bubbled in the pit of Liam's stomach. It had formed narrowed eyebrows and just a little bit of colour in his pallid face. "She didn't deserve that!"

"Yeah she did!" Ron rebuked. "First she buys that devil cat and then she has McGonagall and McDonald take away Harry's Firebolt!"

"Hermione wanted a pet and she bought Crookshanks. Her pet isn't your choice to make!" retaliated Liam. "And besides, Hermione _and_ Tessa are at blame for Harry's Firebolt, there was no need to single out Hermione like that!"

"Since when did you start taking _her_ side?"

Harry allowed Liam to take a nap before eight o'clock on Thursday. He knew his cousin was exhausted from the busy day – Professor Flitwick and Professor Sunderland didn't find weak, sick students a good enough excuse to avoid practical lessons – and allowed him to at least squeeze in an hour's rest before having to perform more practical spells that would probably leech what little energy he had. In any fact he was still upset about Ron's behaviour towards Hermione. Liam had told him he hated the sight of a sad person, but he didn't think it would ever be towards Hermione.

However, Harry slightly regretted allowing the nap because it was difficult to wake him up and Harry had made the mistake of doing it just before eight, thinking they would make it on time. The problem was that Liam was a heavy sleeper even when he was healthy. Harry eventually got Liam to wake up and hurried him to prepare himself for the lesson in the History of Magic classroom.

When Liam was ready, he and Harry left Gryffindor Tower for the History of Magic classroom. They were five minutes late and Lupin had already been there, lightning all the lamps with his wand. On the desk was a large packing case that Lupin tapped when he was done illuminating the classroom.

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"Another boggart," said Lupin. "I found it inside Filch and Gray's cabinet. It's the closest we could get to a real dementor. The boggart will change into a dementor when it sees you, Harry. I can keep it somewhere in my office when we're not using him; there's a cupboard in my desk he'll like."

"Where's Venus?" croaked Liam hoarsely. He was rubbing his eyes. Although he was still half asleep, there was a certain kind of tone in his voice that made Harry wonder why Liam wanted to know that – apart from the fact that he was supposed to be there teaching them how to ward off dementors with Lupin.

"Unfortunately Professor Sting won't be able to join us, today," said Lupin, stripping his cloak and setting it aside. "He's dealing with an inquiry made by our NEWT class. I offered to do it but he thought the lessons with you would be better than doing something like this. It's a serious matter, nonetheless, and I doubt he would be able to make the first few lessons."

Liam blinked blankly at Lupin, Harry couldn't tell if it was from exhaustion or irritation.

"So, let's get too it ..." Lupin brought out his wand and indicated that Harry and Liam should do the same. "The spell I am going to try and teach you is highly advanced magic, boys – well beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level. It is called the Patronus Charm."

"How does it work?" asked Harry.

"Well, when it works correctly, it conjures up a Patronus," said Lupin, "which is a kind of anti-dementor – a guardian that acts as a shield between you and the dementor. The Patronus is a kind of positive force, a projection of the very things that the dementor feeds upon – hope, happiness, the desire to survive – but it cannot feel despair, as real humans can, so the dementors can't hurt it. But I must warn you, boys, that the charm might be too advanced for you. Many qualified wizards have difficulty with it."

"What does a Patronus look like?" asked Liam.

"Each is unique to the wizards," said Lupin.

"How can you conjure it?" asked Harry.

"An incantation," said Lupin. "It will only work, however, if you concentrate on one single happy memory."

Harry searched for a happy memory, something other than meeting the Clarks. He thought that that would have been too much of an obvious one, although he didn't know why or how. Certainly, nothing happy came from living with the Dursleys. Perhaps the first time he had ever ridden a broomstick.

"Ready," Harry heard Liam say.

"Yeah, me too."

"Right, for the incantation repeat after me –" Lupin cleared his throat. _"Expecto patronum!"_

" _Expecto patronum!"_ repeated Harry and Liam in unison.

"Excellent!" said Lupin. "Now, concentrate hard on your happy memory."

" _Expecto patronum!"_ repeated Liam. Harry nearly jumped; something burst from the tip of his wand, something silvery and gas-like.

"Whoa," said Harry, amazed.

"Good, Liam," commented Lupin. "Now you try, Harry."

Harry cleared his throat.

" _Expectico –_ no – _Expecto patrium –_ sorry – _Expecto patronum – Expecto patronum –"_

Harry cast a look to the side; movement caught his attention. His cousin, although pale and sickly, had enough energy to break into a fit of laughter.

"What?" asked Harry.

"E-x-p-e-c-t-o P-a-t-r-o-n-u-m," pronounced Liam, although Harry might as well have not heard it because of the fact that he had been laughing.

"And concentrate on your memory, Harry," said Lupin. Harry swore he also had a smile on.

Harry sighed, _"Expecto patronum!"_

Something whooshed suddenly out of the end of his wand; it looked like a wisp of silvery gas.

"Something happened!" said Harry.

"Very good," said Lupin. "Ready to try on a dementor?"

"Yeah," said Harry. He gripped his wand tightly, and moved with Liam to the middle of the classroom. He tried concentrating hard on himself flying. The feel of the air as he zipped around in the sky on his Nimbus ... but in any moment now, he would be hearing his mother screaming again ...

Lupin grasped the lid of the packing case and pulled.

A dementor rose slowly from the box, its hooded face turned toward Harry and Liam, one glistening, scabbed hand gripping its cloak. The lamps around the classroom flickered and went out. The dementor stepped from the box and started to sweep silently toward Harry, drawing a deep, rattling breath. A wave of piercing cold broke over him –

" _Expecto patronum!_ _"_ Harry yelled. _"_ _Expecto patronum! Ex- pecto_ _–"_

But Harry was falling again through thick white fog, and his mother's voice was louder than ever, echoing inside his head – _"_ _Not Harry! Not Harry! Please_ _– I_ _'_ _ll do anything_ _–"_

" _Expecto patronum!"_

"Keep the force up, Liam!" hollered Lupin. "Very good – keep it – and let go! _Riddikulus!"_

And suddenly hope filled Harry. He jerked back to life lying with his back flat on the floor. Lupin held an irritable chocolate frog in his hand, standing above Harry whilst Liam tried to heave him up.

"Here," said Lupin, handing Harry the chocolate frog. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine," said Harry, biting off the chocolate frog's head. "What happened?"

"The boggart-Dementor overwhelmed you, luckily Liam managed to ward him off," said Lupin.

"On the first go?" asked Harry.

"Wasn't too hard – if you don't count sore limbs and the horrifying image of your cousin suddenly dropping," muttered Liam. Harry only noticed when Liam let go of him that he was shaking. "Besides, it wasn't much ... only some odd circle of mist."

"It was a good start, Liam," said Lupin, giving Liam a chocolate frog as well. "Your Patronus was strong enough to defend Harry and yourself form the Dementor – most first tries aren't as strong."

"It didn't feel too great, though," said Liam. Harry didn't think it were possible, but Liam was paler. He shuddered whilst eating his chocolate frog. Harry wanted to know if Liam had been affected by the dementor, and if so what did he see, but he had a feeling his cousin wasn't up to expressing anything.

"It's gotten worse, you know," said Harry, "the voices of my mom and Voldemort."

Lupin became paler.

"I understand if you want to stop," said Lupin.

"No!" Harry said suddenly. He quickly chomped down the chocolate frog, feeling a great weight of fulfilling pleasure rush through his whole body, then he stood "I want to continue."

"Are you sure?" Asked Lupin.

"Yes!"

Harry stood in the middle of the classroom, Liam followed, although wearily so; was he afraid Harry might die of fright? The two of them stood in the same formation: tightly gripped wands, straight backs and a focused mind on the memory they chose.

"Are you sure about this, Harry?" Liam asked, worried riddle in his face.

"I've got to ... What if the dementors turn up at our match against Ravenclaw? I can't afford to fall off again. If we lose this game we've lost the Quidditch Cup!" answered Harry.

"All right then ..." said Lupin, regarding Harry. "You might want to select another memory, a happy memory, I mean, to concentrate on ... That one doesn't seem to have been strong enough ..."

... The moment when he'd first found out he was a wizard, and would be leaving the Dursleys for Hogwarts! If that didn't qualify as a happy memory – apart from the Clarks, of course – then Harry didn't know what did ... Concentrating very hard on how he had felt when he'd realised he'd be leaving Privet Drive, Harry got to his feet and faced the packing case once more, Liam straightening up beside him.

"Ready?" asked Lupin.

Harry nodded.

"Err – Liam – I prefer if you gave this shot to Harry ..." said Lupin.

Liam was taken back, "What, and let him drown in the miseries of Voldemort killing his mom?"

"I'm not saying that you can't save him – if push comes to shove you would have to – but he wants to learn it more than you do," said Lupin.

"Ok," said Liam, and he reluctantly stepped aside so that he was next to Lupin, who secured his hands on the lid of the packing case.

"Go!" said Lupin, pulling off the lid. The room went icily cold and dark once more. The dementor glided forward, drawing its breath; one rotting hand was extending toward Harry –

" _Expecto patronum!_ _"_ Harry yelled. _"_ _Expecto patronum! Expecto pat_ _–"_

White fog obscured his senses ... big, blurred shapes were moving around him ... then came a new voice, a man's voice, shouting –

" _Lily, take Harry and go! It_ _'_ _s him! Go! Run! I_ _'_ _ll hold him off_ _–"_

The sounds of someone stumbling from a room – a door bursting open – a cackle of high-pitched laughter –

" _Expecto patronum!"_

White light and Harry was back on the floor. He sat up, obliged to being handed another chocolate frog and spoke before realising it.

"For the first time in my life, I heard my father," said Harry. He took a bite of the chocolate frog. "He gave my mom time to run, to hide me. He took on Voldemort by himself."

"You heard James?" asked Lupin.

"Yeah."

"You knew Uncle James?" asked Liam.

Lupin hesitated.

"Both Venus and I knew James, yes," said Lupin. "We were all friends. Thomas, James, Venus ... and Wigan ... Listen – I think we should call it a day. I wouldn't want to put you through much, Harry. If I knew this was going to happen –"

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine," said Harry.

"Harry –"

"Could I at least have one more go?" asked Harry. "Just hang on ... I'll think of happier stuff ..."

That's when he gave up, he thought of the Clarks. He stood again in that incredibly awkward moment when he was tackled by the red-haired stranger, who had not problem knowing his name. Sitting in the Headmasters' office, invited to what they referred to as a 'family reunion' ... he remembered being assured that his aunt's eyes looked exactly like his father's, and from that moment on knowing that Angela Clark was his aunt, Thomas Clark was his uncle and Liam Clark was his cousin. That bubbling feeling of joy and excitement filled him again ...

"I'm ready," said Harry.

Harry was concentrating so hard on his memory that he barely registered Lupin pulling the lid off of the packing case. In seconds the dementor was in front of him, hovering above casting a sickly cold feeling in the room – but Harry did not let go of this memory ... he did not give into hearing the agonising yelps of his mother.

" _EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_ bellowed Harry. _"EXPECTO PATRONUM! EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_

He heard something but it sound as if it were coming from a badly tuned radio. He didn't lose focus when he realised it was his mother's screams, followed shortly after by the dark lord Voldemort, only it was more feint. And then suddenly a large silver shadow came out of Harry's wand, casted between him and the dementor.

" _Riddikulus!"_ yelled Lupin.

 _CRACK!_

The Dementor retreated and Harry's Patronus disappeared.

Again, Harry's mind was too clouded to take in what was happening. He was shocked and amazed that after tries and tries he had finally accomplished the ability – even though weak – to ward off a Dementor. Although the match against Ravenclaw was still far from now, Harry felt prepared for it. It was like he spent every living moment of his life practicing it.

"Excellent!" Lupin said. "Excellent! That was definitely a start!"

"Can we have one more go?" Harry asked. This profound feeling inside was too much to tame. He had to try this again, perfect it if he could.

Lupin handed Harry another chocolate frog, "Not now, I'm afraid, Harry. You've done enough for one night, besides ... your cousin's a little winded."

Harry cast a look to the side. Liam sat humbly in a chair, folding his arms although it looked for no apparent reason. Harry had to refrain from laughing, even though he knew he shouldn't. He watched as his sickly cousin tried in his best efforts to stay awake, and he was momentarily jerked back to life when his head lolled in all directions.

Harry scoffed, and then his attention turned back to Lupin with a question he was dying to ask – to anyone, if it were brought that.

"If you knew my dad, you must've known Sirius Black as well."

Lupin turned very quickly.

"What gives you that idea?" he said sharply.

"I – err – heard someone say that Venus and Sirius were friends – you know with them both ending up prisoners – and you told me yourself that Venus was your friend back when you went to Hogwarts –" Harry thought he may have stammered too much; he didn't want to tell Lupin that he had snuck into Hogsmeade and then overheard a conversation about Black in the Three Broomsticks.

Lupin's face relaxed.

"Yes, I knew him," he said shortly. "Or I thought I did. You'd better be off, Harry, it's getting late."

Harry was both shocked and unbelievably happy when he heard the news that Ravenclaw lost to Slytherin. However, he was only shocked for a little while because he heard from Beck and Simon that Breeanne Shacklebolt was pulled out of the match because she was a little under the weather ... and nowadays being even a little under the weather was more than just a sign of trouble – assuming the madman behind this "plague" was indeed Sargas Scorpiosting.

His happiness came from the fact that Gryffindor would have the chance to be in second place if they won against Ravenclaw in their match, which meant that they had a chance to win the Quidditch Cup.

There was a downside to it, of course. Wood had increased the number of team practices to five a week. In addition to that, the Anti-Dementor lessons, which were perhaps more tiring than all Quidditch practices combined, left him with little time to do his homework. However, if anyone would be stressing over homework it was Hermione and Tessa.

Every night, Hermione and Tessa would set up what Liam would call "Fort Crazy" ("No one would leave that place without growing a small bit of crazy," commented Liam.) where lay their books, Arithmancy charts, rune dictionaries, diagrams of Muggles lifting heavy objects, and file upon file of extensive notes. They barely spoke to anyone – not even each other – and would snap at anyone who disturbed them.

For Tessa's sake – and for the sake of humour – Liam had drawn up a sign with large print on it and laid it on the cleanest part of the many desks, reading:

 **WARNING!**

 **EXTREMELY CRANKY THIRD-YEARS**

 **TALK TO AT OWN RISK**

And under it was a drawing of two girls with sharp teeth, lunging, with mouths open, to a stick figure that approached their sketched Fort Crazy (Liam had even made the extra effort to put an askew paper sign hanging from one of the sketched desks spelling out **Fort Crazy)**.

It benefitted the two of them because barely anyone would approach them, not even Beck and Simon – who seemed to always resort to them when Liam, their original source of information, was either unsure or too tired to tend to matters such as homework.

They often wouldn't bother trying because Liam spent his free time lying on the long couch either asleep or pretending to be asleep. The bad part about it was that Liam was Harry's main source of information, too, and the only time he would talk to him was if Harry announced that their conversation wouldn't revolve around homework. So Harry was left to do his homework himself.

Of course, Ron was a little disappointed, too, and it brought him to raise a good point.

"I wonder how those two can make it to every class ..." said Ron, staring at Hermione and Tessa.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Getting to all their classes!" Ron said. "I heard them talking to Professor Vector, that Arithmancy witch, this morning. They were going on about yesterday's lesson, but they can't've been there, because they were with us in Care of Magical Creatures! And Ernie McMillan told me they've never missed a Muggle Studies class, but half of them are at the same time as Divination, and they've never missed one of them either!"

Harry didn't even begin to think about that, there were other much more important things to worry about, but Ron had a point. How was it possible that they could make every single class they had when some of them clashed with each other.

Harry heard a fit of coughs, which either meant that Liam was awake or that he had acquired the useless ability to cough whilst sleeping.

He began to wonder ... his cousin was beginning to get too sick to move, he had noticed that in Liam's incredibly sluggish pace, but he made it to every Ayers practice as though what he had was a passing flu. It was nowhere near a flu nor was it going to go away anytime soon, but Liam didn't let that effect him. He had a couple close calls with the Beaters, and he nearly flew into the Medio post – he may have once or twice miscalculated his throw of the Runner nearly knocking others and himself out of the sky, but he was otherwise fine – or at least pretended to be.

Thinking of Ayers reminded Harry of Quidditch, which naturally had him thinking about his smashed Nimbus and how he could have been flying around on his Firebolt. He was told that he couldn't use the school broom, and he had no trouble agreeing with that, and that he needed to get a new one, but Harry could barely find the time between school, Quidditch practice, Anti-Dementor lessons and sleep. Wood didn't seem to brighten his mood when he came lumbering into the common room looking flustered.

"Bad news, Harry. I've just been to see Professor McGonagall and Professor McDonald about the Firebolt. They – er – got a bit _shirty_ with me. Told me I'd got my priorities wrong. Seemed to think I cared more about winning the Cup than I do about you staying alive. Just because I told her I didn't care if it threw you off, as long as you caught the Snitch first." Wood shook his head in disbelief. "Honestly, the way she was yelling at me ... you'd think I'd said something terrible ... Then I asked her how much longer she was going to keep it ... 'As long as necessary, Wood' ... I reckon it's time you ordered a new broom, Harry. There's an order form at the back of _Which Broomstick_ ... you could get a Nimbus Two Thousand and One, like Malfoy's got."

"I'm not buying anything Malfoy thinks is good," said Harry flatly.

In no time January became February. The weather was still cold, the match against Ravenclaw was drawing nearer and Harry was no closer to getting a new broom. He was now asking Professor McGonagall and Professor McDonald about it every Transfigurations lesson. The results of which was no good because they told him off for doing so.

If it were up to Harry he would never admit this aloud, but he was slowly growing jealous of Liam because he was making more progrress on their anti-Dementor lessons than he was. He was sure that his Patronus would have had to look more than a silvery shield, which was all he managed to produced. Liam's began to take more shape.

"You're expecting too much, Harry," said Professor Lupin in their fourth week of practice. "For a thirteen-year-old wizard, even an indistinct Patronus is a huge achievement. You aren't passing out anymore, are you?"

"I thought a Patronus would – charge the dementors down or something," said Harry dispiritedly. "Make them disappear –"

"The true Patronus does do that," said Lupin. "But you've achieved a great deal in a very short space of time. If the dementors put in an appearance at your next Quidditch match, you will be able to keep them at bay long enough to get back to the ground – otherwise, if your cousin's close enough to, he could do it for you."

Liam sat aside the entire lesson, chomping down a chocolate frog. He sat irritably. Harry wasn't sure if it was because of his sickness or the fact the Venus still wasn't able to make it to the Anti-Dementor lessons.

"You said it's harder if there are loads of them," said Harry.

"I have complete confidence in you," said Lupin, smiling. "You've earned a drink – something from the Three Broomsticks. You won't have tried it before –"

He pulled three bottles out of his briefcase.

"Butterbeer!" said Harry, without thinking. "Yeah, I like that stuff !"

Liam cleared his throat. Behind Lupin, he was running his finger across his neck, indicating Harry to stop. Lupin gave Harry an apprehensive look.

"Liam ... Ron ... Hermione and Tessa ... they got me some when they were at Hogsmeade," lied Harry.

"Ok –" said Lupin, handing Liam and Harry a bottle each. "Well – let's drink to a Gryffindor win against Ravenclaw, shall we?"

They drank in silence, and then suddenly Harry asked what he had wondered for very long.

"What's under the hood of a Dementor?"

"Well ... anyone that knows aren't in a very good state to tell us," said Lupin, taking a sip of his Butterbeer. "The Dementor only lowers its hood to use its worst weapon."

"Which is?" asked Liam.

"The Dementor's Kiss," said Lupin. "The Dementors do it to a person they want to destroy completely. I supposed they have some kind of mouth under there ... otherwise I don't know how else they would suck out your soul –"

Harry choked.

"What – they kill –"

"No – Merlin, no – they do something worse," said Lupin. "Much worse than that. You can exist without your soul, you know, as long as your brain and heart are still working. But you'll have no sense of self anymore, no memory, no ... anything. There's no chance at all of recovery. You'll just – exist. As an empty shell. And your soul is gone forever ... lost."

"A fate worse than death ..." murmured Liam.

Harry's heart sunk. If Venus Sting wasn't emancipated by his aunt and uncle then he would have gotten the Dementor's Kiss. Dumbledore and Glumberry had said that he would have gotten "a fate worse than death" if it wasn't for Liam and Harry saving him that night.

"Why, yes – I suppose you could put it that way," said Lupin. He drank more of his Butterbeer. "Sirius Black will get it, should they find him. The _Daily Prophet_ announced that the Ministry has given the Dementors permission to do so."

"He deserves it," said Harry.

"You think so?" said Lupin lightly. "Do you really think anyone deserves that?"

"Yeah –" said Harry. "For some things –"

Harry wanted to tell Lupin about what he'd overheard about Black and his parents, but that would mean he would have to explain that he had snuck into Hogsmeade.

They had left afterwards. It didn't even seem as though Liam was there because he was hulking slowly behind. Apart from that, Harry had his mind wrapped around the process of the Dementor's Kiss. The thought of having your soul ripped out of your body was so terrifyingly engrossing that he hadn't noticed that he'd bumped into Professor McDonald.

"Do watch where you're going, Potter!" said McDonald.

"Sorry, professor," said Harry.

"We've been looking all over for you," said McDonald. "Professor McGonagall just went to the common room. You've got a very good friend somewhere, Potter ... and you're lucky _I_ decided to take your broomstick with me."

She held out Harry's Firebolt.

"Seriously?" asked Harry.

"Seriously?" repeated Liam, who had finally woken up.

"Seriously," said McDonald with a smile. "I daresay you're going to need it in your match against Ravenclaw. And Potter – _do_ try and win, won't you? Or we'll be out of the running for the eighth year in a row, as Professor Snape and Professor Wolverhampton have kindly reminded us."

Harry had barely registered the walk, Liam had to push him. He wasn't very good at it because the next moment they bumped into Ron.

"They gave it to you, then? Excellent! Listen, can I still have a go on it? Tomorrow?"

"Yeah ... anything ..." said Harry. "You know what – we should make up with Hermione and Tessa ... They wee only trying to help ..."

"Yeah, all right," said Ron. "They're in the common room now – working, for as always –"

They turned into the corridor to Gryffindor Tower and saw Neville Longbottom, pleading with Sir Cadogan, who seemed to be refusing him entrance.

"I wrote them down!" Neville was saying tearfully. "But I must've dropped them somewhere!"

"A likely tale!" roared Sir Cadogan. "Good even, my fine young yeomen! Come clap this loon in irons. He is trying to force entry to the chambers within!"

"Oh, shut up," said Ron.

"I've lost the passwords!" Neville told them. "I made him tell me what passwords he was going to use this week, because he keeps changing them, and now I don't know what I've done with them!"

"Oddsbodikins," said Harry to Sir Cadogan, who reluctantly swung forward to let them into the common room. The moment they stepped foot in the common room there was a sudden excited murmur as heads spun around to face Harry.

"Where'd you get it, Harry?"

"Will you let me have a go?"

"Excellent!" came Wood's voice, and he bustled his way through the crowd and met with Harry. "Ravenclaw won't stand a chance, even _with_ Breeanne Shacklebolt!"

"Can I at least _hold_ it, Harry?"

Harry sent his Firebolt around and after a moment it had returned to him. Harry caught Hermione and Tessa through the crowd. He couldn't approach them from where he stood – his chances were better going to the common room.

"You should probably put it away now, Harry," yawned Liam, whose tired eyes were hungrily looking at the long couch. "Wouldn't want anymore broken brooms, now do we?"

"Yeah –"

"I'll take it," Ron said suddenly, and he seized the broom and walked passed the crowd and up the stairs.

Harry's eyes darted back to the two girls on the other side of the room.

"I guess you can make bygones be bygones, now," said Liam, pointing at the girls. "I'll be where I usually am ... sleeping on the long couch as always ..." and he lumbered off to the long couch before anybody could take it.

Harry had walked over to Hermione and Tessa, who were both scribbling frantically across parchment after parchment. Their Arithmancy charts were all over the place, their History of Magic homework had a little too much effort put into it, their Potions essay was way over the boundary – Harry thought because he'd found three other pages related lying somewhere near their incredibly accurate Herbology sketch of a Lamiconitum tree (Bud and Sprout were inspired by Von Seiler).

When they had finally looked up, Harry would have first thought that they had the sickness, too.

"I got my Firebolt back," said Harry.

"Yes, we know," said Tessa.

"We bumped into McGonagall on our way back from the library," said Hermione.

"How are you doing all this stuff?" Harry asked

"Oh, you know ..." said Tessa.

"Hard work," said Hermione.

"It doesn't look like you're enjoying them much," said Harry.

"Oh, we love every lesson!" said Hermione, although something in her tone made it clear to Harry that she wasn't entirely supportive of her own claim.

"What about Arithmancy," asked Harry, "it looks terrible –"

"Arithmancy's our favourite lesson –"

"We love it –"

"It's so much of fun ... we –"

A strangled yell echoed down the boys' staircase. The whole common room fell silent, staring, petrified, at the entrance. Ron came running in with a bedsheet in hand.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL, RON –!" groaned Liam – who had obviously fallen asleep and found this a rude awakening.

"LOOK!" he bellowed, striding over to the girls's table. "LOOK!" he yelled, shaking the sheets in Hermione's face.

"Ron, what –?"

"SCABBERS! LOOK! SCABBERS!"

Hermione was leaning away from Ron, looking utterly bewildered. Harry looked down at the sheet Ron was holding. There was something red on it. Something that looked horribly like —

"BLOOD!" Ron yelled into the stunned silence. "HE'S GONE! AND YOU KNOW WHAT WAS ON THE FLOOR?"

"N–no," said Hermione in a trembling voice.

Ron threw something down onto Hermione's rune translation. Hermione and Harry leaned forward. Lying on top of the weird, spiky shapes were several long, ginger cat hairs.

" _That's_ what all the fuss is for!" bellowed Liam incredulously. And then he began to mumble something along the lines of "Stupid Pet Wars" and "no appreciation for the sickly" ...

"DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND!" yelled Ron. "THAT CAT OF HER'S DONE IT! SCABBERS IS GONE –"

"RON – SHUT UP!"

"Yeah, Ron," Harry added, taking one last glance at the sea of parchment and books on the surface of each desk, "she's got enough on her plate."


	14. Red vs Blue

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Red vs Blue

Ron and Hermione would probably say they were never friends. Hermione was angry at Ron because he was blaming Crookshanks for something he couldn't have done, and she loudly expressed to Tessa that Ron was too lazy to even look for Scabbers. However, Ron would not do anything. He was upset that Hermione wasn't owning up to what her cat did and he was more than proud to say mean things about it. In front of her or not, Ron expressed every single bit of his mind about the matter that it began to make not only Liam uncomfortable, but Harry too.

Although Harry strongly believed that Scabbers was in fact eaten by Crookshanks – it was the most logical reason – there was no reason for Ron to ridicule Hermione. She didn't deserve it, as Liam had once said to Ron – which was odd considering Liam was on the verge of doing something very similar before. It unnerved Harry to think that Ron barely cared about Hermione's feelings because the words he said evidently hurt her, and he was sure Liam would have thought the same – if, of course, he believed Scabbers was eaten, too.

Harry asked Liam about whether or not he believed Crookshanks ate Scabbers and was shocked at his response. What he said was very like him, but the way he looked was not. He looked upset and cast a sympathetic look at Hermione before straightening his face and saying, "I don't care! S'long as this stupid pet war is over soon!"

It didn't seem as though Ron was on good terms with Liam, either. The night that he found Crookshanks's fur near the bloody bedspread was also the night Liam went off to bed with seething anger. He must have been exhausted, because he looked like he wanted to knock Ron at the back of his head every second he glared at him; Liam wasn't very happy about his sleep being interrupted. It also seemed as though scorning Hermione every chance he could fuelled Liam with even more anger. Harry had once thought that that anger was stored somewhere in his body, waiting for the moment he would just blow his top.

In hope of stopping the tension, Harry invited Ron to their next Quidditch practice so that he could take the Firebolt for a spin. Madam Hooch came to monitor Harry just in case his incredible broomstick would miraculously spiral out of control.

Before they started, Wood began to speak about Breeanne Shacklebolt, naturally, and the Ravenclaw Seeker.

"She's a fourth year named Cho Chang and she's pretty good," said Wood. "But she's riding a Comet Two Sixty, which will look like a joke compared to your Firebolt. As for Breeanne Shacklebolt, I'm not too sure she'll be playing this match ... I've got word from the Ravenclaw captain that she's gotten worse from the last time ... and Flitwick and Sunderland've been on a rage since, trying to postpone the match for a later time ... didn't work out. Anyway, if she does play we're up against a Nimbus Two Thousand and One ..."

Harry didn't worry too much about Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones. The entire Slytherin team had them and Gryffindor could beat them with ease. What he worried about was Breeanne Shacklebolt. If they played her as Chaser for the match, then Harry wouldn't know how much of a margin they would have to put up against before he caught the Snitch – and he was unsure whether he would have had to do it to put Gryffindor out of their misery, or just to prevent Cho Chang from catching it instead.

Wood let out the Snitch and within ten seconds Harry caught it tightly in his hand. The practice went well. The team performed their best moves without fault. However, for Liam, it was possibly the worst. Thirty minutes into practice Liam zipped towards the Medio post, slipping through the strong Gryffindor defence with ease by kicking the Runner over their heads, but as he tried kicking off the air for enough momentum to go on, he dropped.

He wasn't too far off from the ground but Harry still panicked. He panicked so much that he floated in the air, not even moving. Only when he was ten feet from the ground did Harry shoot after his cousin, but Liam stretched out his legs and stumbled on the ground, rolling over until he was snug in a small burrow created by the force of his body hitting the ground.

Everyone, both Quidditch and Ayers players, got to the ground and approached Liam. He was struggling against the grass, trying to grind his way to his feet but his legs weren't working. Brent Shaw, the big, burly sixth year, lunged to Liam and pulled him up. Liam pushed him away, annoyed, and fell into the arms of Jean Woolly.

"I'm fine!" snapped Liam, who made another attempt to push away from Woolly this time; Shaw and Woolly grabbed his arms and held him still.

"Quit it, Clark, their trying to help!" said Clogg.

"What's the matter?" asked Simon.

"Nothing!" snapped Liam sharply.

Harry saw the problem immediately: Liam's legs were shaking – badly. His knees were the worst. They clattered against each other with speed Harry thought was not possible. That was why he couldn't kick off for momentum, his legs were too weak to power his flight.

"Clark, you said you'd be better," said Clogg, clearly angry.

"I am!" said Liam, who was putting up a fight against Shaw and Woolly, but his legs gave up on helping. "I was better yesterday and I didn't feel any different this morning!"

"If you're like this tomorrow, I don't think you should play –"

"No! I'm playing –"

"I wasn't giving you an option, Clark, you're not playing!"

"Jimmy –"

"Not another word to it!" said Clogg. "You're benched for the rest of practice."

Liam forced his feet to the ground, as though trying to will them to stay still. He caught Clogg's attention, but he looked away almost immediately and motioned for everyone else to get back into the air. Woolly and Shaw made sure Liam could at least walk before they left, and Liam didn't wait for practice to finish. He lumbered off angry, not even sparing another glance on the teams or even Harry.

Harry felt sorry for Liam. He knew his cousin had only acted that way because he was growing tired of being rendered useless by a sickness that never went away. Harry would have acted the same if he had been in his shoes. He wanted to run after him, but Wood called him up and let the Snitch free again. Liam was already gone by the time Harry caught the Snitch.

At the end of the practice, Harry had to do what he promised. He let Ron have a few rounds on his Firebolt. Madam Hooch was fast asleep whilst Ron zipped from post to post with a Quaffle in hand, throwing the ball towards each post and hoping it would go through the hoops.

When Madam Hooch woke she told them off for not waking her up and sent them to the Gryffindor Tower. The little scene Liam created had dissipated from mind as he and Ron had talked on about the Firebolt's amazing qualities. They were halfway toward the castle when Harry, glancing to his left, saw something that made his heart turn over – a pair of eyes, gleaming out of the darkness.

"Harry?" asked Ron. "What's wrong?"

Harry said nothing. Those eyes bore into his with a wicked gleam. Instead, he pointed and Ron brought out his wand.

" _Lumos!"_ The tip of Ron's wand lit up. The light had swept across the grounds and shun on – Crookshanks. "Get!" Ron bent down and seized a rock, but Crookshanks was gone by the time he could do anything.

Ron hadn't said anything on the way back, all Harry knew was that he was not happy with Hermione's cat. Harry never knew things would get worse from there. When they walked into the common room, Liam sat up, startled, but Ron's attention was on Hermione – who was again set aside behind many tables, next to Tessa, and wasn't even daring to look up to the sudden bustle in the common room.

"Ron –?" called Liam.

"You!" Ron roared, pointing at Hermione. Tessa stood, but that didn't stop him. "You're still letting that no good ginger piece of _rubbish_ roam around the school! Do you even _care_ about anyone else? What if there's another rat around the school, owned by a poor first year? Would you stop Crookshanks from eating _their_ pets?"

Hermione slammed her hand on a book and stood, glaring at Ron. And in the split-second her expression broke, she pushed past Ron and stormed out of the common room.

"Ron!" bellowed Liam, who slid off the couch and idly bounded after her, his weak knees slowing him down.

"She didn't deserve that!" piped Tessa, whose voice was so timid Harry wondered if she was scared he might tell her off, too. Harry couldn't blame her, Ron wasn't being very nice.

That angry feeling bubbled in the pit of his stomach again. Liam wondered how he befriended Ron Weasley before anyone else. Did it have to be him standing on the other side of that mirror? He went after Hermione and checked in every place near the Gryffindor Tower but found no sign of her, his legs were making this harder than it looked. He wasn't going to risk searching the library without his ring, which he set aside in his bedside table because having it reminded him about a time he was lively enough to wander around the school corridors. Running didn't seem like an option and Filch and Gray would be more than happy to report him to McDonald and McGonagall. He also didn't feel like meeting Madam Pince and Madam Tomes when he was caught wandering about the library after dark.

So after searching through three corridors near the Gryffindor Tower, Liam headed back to evade trouble and hoped Hermione wouldn't land in McDonald's or McGonagall's office. That furiously angry feeling that blistered the depths of his stomach still hadn't faded, and he had to keep recalling that it happened only because he hated the sight of sad people, in order to remind himself that Hermione dislike him as much as he disliked her.

Did he really dislike her, though? The only reason he wasn't on good terms with her was because ... well, he didn't quite know why but he was sure he and Hermione would have been great friends had they met under different circumstances. He felt that Ron's feud with Hermione was forcing him to see the good in her. The multiple times Hermione left after being attacked were like blinking signs, advertising that Hermione wasn't all bad.

If they had been friends they would have had a relationship similar to the one he had with Tessa, which he cherished among his relationship with Harry and his parents. If befriending Sirius Black taught him anything, it was making sure that your friendly bonds were strong, otherwise Hermione Granger would have it in for Liam's head in twelve year's time.

Fortunately, the angry feeling had died down when he woke up the next morning. He didn't feel any better, though, because walking around with his knees slamming against each other was a tiresome reminder that he couldn't play against Ravenclaw today. They replaced him for a Runner Shooter who wasn't in form. He was a small fourth year who stumbled over his own feet even on the ground. Liam couldn't believe he made substitute, and he predicted a losing performance with him.

The other thing that evoked his memories about this match was his own cousin. Harry could play, and Liam was jealous about the fact that he wasn't sick or benched. His broomstick, the Firebolt, was another thing that seemed to taunt Liam. Its perfectly trimmed tail appeared to jeer at him when they left for breakfast before the match.

The only reason he was going to the match was because Harry was playing, and although envious about the fact that he could, Harry needed the support. Liam knew that his cousin was nervous about another Dementor attack, and was furious that his Patronus took the same form every practice whilst Liam's looked brighter and more like a unique something. If the Dementors did attack today, and Harry was too slow to react, Liam would be there as backup.

He grabbed onto some joy when he saw the Slytherins's face when they had walked into the Great Hall for breakfast. They were all staring at Harry's Firebolt, awestruck. Some were whispering to each other probably trying to devise a plan to sabotage their match today, and Liam had a horrible thought of a blind Malfoy and McElroy if he were to cast his Patronus Charm on them ... _could_ it blind someone?

He turned his head to the other side of the hall where the Ravenclaws sat. Most of them had doubtful looks on. Liam was sure that among them was Breeanne Shacklebolt. He has never seen her, but he couldn't imagine someone as good as her being humble about the fact that someone could beat her, he didn't take _any_ Ravenclaw as humble. To see them nervous only meant that there was a pretty good likelihood Gryffindor could win, even with his pitiable, oafish replacement.

Some of the Ravenclaws, however, came over to see Harry's Firebolt. One of them, with long, curly blond hair, came along with Percy Weasley, and he recognised her as his girlfriend who had heartily asked Harry if she could hold his Firebolt.

"No sabotaging, Penny," said Percy as Harry passed her his broom. Then he regarded the team. "Penny and I have got a bet on. Ten Galleons on the outcome of the match." Penelope – he thought her name was – put Harry's broom down, thanked him and went to join her table. When she was gone, Percy continued in an urgent whisper. "Make sure you _win_ , Harry, I haven't got ten Galleons." And then he left to join her.

The Gryffindors weren't hesitant to express their joy. They came by one by one to see the broom that might just put them back in the tournament. Beck Lavery was especially enthusiastic about the very presence of the broom, and caressed it with such hearty passion that Liam nearly laughed; that boy managed to make his day every time. The Hufflepuffs were sharing equal delight, and a boy with dark hair and grey eyes, who Liam identified as the fifth-year who captained the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, had come around to congratulate Harry on finding such a good substitute for his Nimbus.

"Sure you can _handle_ that broom, Potter?" came a voice.

Malfoy had approached them with the McElroy twins and Crabbe and Goyle bounding behind him. Funny, he never really thought of Adrian and Dmitri McElroy as background characters to a person who was very alike them in many ways. Perhaps it was just because Quidditch wasn't really their game. Adrian was an Ayers player and would jump to the first opportunity to mock Liam if he could.

"I'm sure," said Harry.

"Got plenty of special features, hasn't it?" said Malfoy, eyes glittering maliciously. "Shame it doesn't come with a parachute – in case you get too near a dementor."

Crabbe and Goyle sniggered, the McElroy twins smirked.

"Pity you can't attach an extra arm to yours, Malfoy," said Harry. "Then it could catch the Snitch for you."

The whole of Gryffindor burst out laughing. Malfoy's pale eyes narrowed, and he stalked away, Crabbe, Goyle and the McElroys tightly behind him. They rejoined the Slytherin house, putting their heads together. Liam knew that they had to be asking them if Harry's broom really was a Firebolt. Liam genuinely smiled for the first time in weeks. The Slytherins were unhappy, Harry was enjoying himself and his happiness seemed to pump some energy in him. He may not have been allowed to play, but he was pleased for the moment.

Clogg may had restricted him from playing the match, but he allowed him to see it from the same view. He could sit in the dugout with the rest of the team, which was a fine luxury for someone who was benched.

The day was bright and clear, easy for a good Quidditch match and better than the day they played Hufflepuff. However, his good mood had been spoilt by the way the Ayers team played.

Gryffindor lost by a margin of five hundred points all because the stupid Runner Shooter was too slow for who Liam suspected was Breeanne Shacklebolt. The Gryffindors were all nervous that she was going to play, and with good reason. She zipped around the air so fast that Liam could barely see where she was. The Gryffindor Runner wouldn't have a chance to grab the ball before a speeding blue flash swooshed past in a flurry and managed to score a Medio with incredible speed (Shacklebolt had a pretty efficient way to get passed Jean Woolly).

Liam almost wanted to brag to Clogg that he shouldn't have benched him, but he quickly reconsidered it when he saw the state the captain had been in. He had to admit, he probably wasn't as angry as Jimmy Clogg, who landed in the dugout and looked like he wanted to kicked the seats with relentless fury. His fist were clenched, his face red and the wings on his shoes were flapping in a flurry, as if trying to cool him down. The only reason Gryffindor gained some points was because Clogg managed to score a Medio with the Base. If he hadn't played, Liam was sure he would have jumped right off the dugout railings and wouldn't even bother kicking off the air.

They were still in second place for the cup. However, Ravenclaw was only one hundred points away from stealing the title away from them. That would give them strong incentive to try harder next year.

Liam channelled his anger for the lousy performance Gryffindor played in order to support Harry. Most of the Ayers team and lumbered off to the locker rooms, not thinking it worth their time to watch the Quidditch team. Clogg was one of the first to leave and Wood didn't seem to appreciate his best friend storming off like that. But he said nothing and continued to prepare his team for the match. Liam stared as Harry strapped his shin guards on, wondering how much more of a challenge Gryffindor would have been with him in the team. Wow ... he never knew he loved the sport so much.

"Looks like you're in for some competition, Potter," said Wood, looking directly at the Ravenclaw team, who were all scuttling around restlessly in their dugout, probably excited about their recent win against the Gryffindor Ayers team. They all seemed to finish together, and then took a lap around the stadium, on their brooms, in a fixed formation, led by a girl with sepia, reddish-brown skin. Her hair was tied up into a ponytail that bounced behind her with the wind. On her face was a very appealing smile, and her eyes ... Liam was drawn to people simply by their eyes and this girl caught his attention immediately. They were a pair of bright yellow, nearly gold, darting eyes that seemed to glisten brighter than the sun.

"Who is she?" Liam asked, keeping his eyes on her swift glides through the air.

"That, my friend," said Wood, who was staring after her in awe, too, "is Breeanne Shacklebolt. I heard her father's second-in-command for the First Class Auror team, just under Jasper Eckhart. That's the team they're sending after Sirius Black, apart from the Dementors, of course. Luckily for your cousin here she's not the Seeker, otherwise she would have whipped us to the next century. Good flier, she is. Makes the best out of that Nimbus of hers. Unfortunately, she's too young for me."

"What?" asked Harry, shocked.

"Yeah. Tall as she is, she's third year, the same year as you two," said Wood. Liam stared after her, watching as her brown curls flapped against the wind and billowed behind her as she flew. She was tall for a thirteen year old ... and pretty, too. "If she wasn't so young I would have made an effort to get her, but ..."

Liam _did_ find her attractive, but older than she looked ... or was that the fact that she was a Ravenclaw. Her height only made her look independent, the kind of persona he expected every Ravenclaw to have – and occasionally know-it-all Gryffindors like Hermione. Looking at her now, she looked like she could be in her sixth or seventh year. _Must've hit her growth spurt early,_ thought Liam.

Then Liam noticed that he had been staring at her for far to long. She looked up at him and his cheeks burnt; it was moments like these were he was grateful his face was too pale to go red. He shot her a _I'm expecting a good match_ look and she replied with one that said _challenge accepted._ He didn't think that would work, but he sneaked his way out of that one.

He nearly laughed about it. In fact, he turned to Harry to tell him what happened only to see that he was too engrossed looking at the only other girl in the Ravenclaw Quidditch team.

"Who's she?" Liam asked, pointing at the girl with a long sheet of sleek, black hair. Pretty ... but nothing compared to Breeanne Shacklebolt. This was for Harry's sake.

"Cho Chang," answered Wood. _"That's_ the Seeker."

Cho had sparked a smile in Harry's direction and Liam couldn't help but notice that his cousin's cheeks _could_ flush red. Harry hastily averted his gaze and focussed more on fitting his elbow-pads securely around his arms.

The Quidditch team flew to the ground where Wood shook hands with the captain of the Ravenclaw team – who Liam really thought was going to be Shacklebolt, considering the way everyone talked about her. The whistle blew before Liam realised he was looking at Breeanne again, which left him to trail after Harry as he shot off the ground.

Harry zoomed higher and faster than any other broom, but Breeanne caught his attention so easily. She worked at such great pace, using the Quaffle well around her shoulders, elbows and head ... he couldn't help thinking, a very similar style to Liam. This time, he could catch up to her; she didn't go as fast as she did against the Ayers team. He thought maybe it was because of her sickness, she was slower, but his mind kept edging towards a different reason ... one that was urging him to keep an eye on her, willing her to go slower so that he would admire her skill ...

 _What am I doing?_ he questioned himself. Shacklebolt was the reason we lost ... _actually it was that stupid sub ... focus, Liam!_ He forced himself to look at Harry instead.

"And they're off," said Lee Jordan, who had obviously recovered from the Ayers loss. "The big excitement this match is the Firebolt that Harry Potter is flying for Gryffindor. According to _Which_ _Broomstick_ , the Firebolt's going to be the broom of choice for the national teams at this year's World Championship –"

"Jordan, please tell us what's going on in the match!" interrupted Professor McGonagall.

"Err – right, Katie Bell of Gryffindor has the ball – she's going in for goal – and – OH NO! Roger Davies steals it away, keeping the game alive – let's hope Johnson can retain possession for Gryffindor before that Quaffle ends up in the hands of Breeanne Shacklebolt," said Lee Jordan. "Davies lets go of the ball, throwing it toward Breeanne Shacklebolt of Ravenclaw – oh, wonderful interception from George Weasley, Gryffindor has possession again!"

George Weasley, who was a Beater, threw the Quaffle towards Angelina Johnson, whilst Harry, above them, was spinning around on his Firebolt.

"That Firebolt's shinning in the sun, and did you know that the the Firebolt, incidentally, has built-in auto-brake and –"

"JORDAN!"

Liam saw Harry flying around the stadium trying to find the Snitch streaking near the posts, only to find that he was being tailed by Cho Chang. She was an excellent flier, even Liam – a boy with little knowledge of flying a broomstick – could see that. She continuously cut across him, forcing him to change directions. Liam could see that this was an easy tactic to drive the opposition off track. She was trying to prevent Harry from getting the Snitch, not that her looks wouldn't do the trick.

Fred yelled for Harry to accelerate with his Firebolt. It would beat the Comet Two Sixty any day. Liam got the pleasure of watching Harry race the Weasley twins yesterday before practice started. They got the beating of their lives.

Harry had done what Fred had said, he willed his Firebolt to go faster, leaving Cho Chang behind. He had to swerved around a Bludger that zoomed passed his face and had then chased after Alicia; Fred went after it.

"Here we are – Johnson to Bell – Bell zips easily past the board of Beaters and – SCORES!"

Harry shot towards the goals, swerving to a turn to avoid another Bludger, and then saw it – the Snitch. Liam managed to see it too, but wasn't too sure if that was the real thing.

His cousin bolted down towards the post on the other side, Cho doing the same. Bludgers came shooting passed, almost like they intended to shower Harry. He avoided them all and darted towards the Snitch, eyes glued onto it. But then another Bludger came out of nowhere and Harry zoomed around it which made him go off course, and once he managed to control his Firebolt, the Snitch was gone.

Liam cursed under his breath as he watched his cousin fly back, soaring over the pitch in search of the golden flying ball like a hawk.

"Gryffindor lead eight points to thirty!"

That meant if Cho got the Snitch first, Ravenclaw would win. Liam was glad to see that his cousin knew what he was thinking. He dived lower and spotted it – the glistening gold, it was fluttering its wings around the middle of the field. But Harry must have known that if Cho was still tailing him, there was a possibility he would lose the Snitch. Liam knew he couldn't let that happen. He watched as Harry made a sharp turn up, fooling the Ravenclaw Seeker into believing he spotted the Snitch, and circled Cho for a while, confusing her. Once dong it about two or three time, Cho lost him and he darted to the middle of the field to catch the snitch.

Liam could applaud that play if he knew his cousin could hear it, but not over the roar of the Gryffindors.

This time he could not be distracted. Liam watched his cousin dart toward the Snitch with incredible speed ... he was nearly there ... his arm outstretched – and then he heard a scream. Liam's eyes tore away from the Snitch and Harry and saw Dementors. Three tall, black Dementors. His hand fumbled for his wand before seeing a large silver shield. He looked up, from Harry's wand came an enormous figure glistening before the Dementors.

Through the blinding light, Liam could only see vague movement, but he wasn't sure who it was. He heard the whistle go nonetheless and the match was over. Harry's Patronus disappeared and in no time at all, the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team surrounded him. Liam ran down the stairs to the pitch and joined up with the Quidditch team as they landed.

"You did it, Harry!" said Liam. He wanted to add, _you cast a Patronus!_ But he'd done it before, Liam just doubted if he could do it in front of an actual Dementor when the time came. Just then the cheering Gryffindor crowd ran on.

"Good for you, Harry!" roared Seamus Finnigan.

"Excellent, Harry!" boomed Beck Lavery. "Thanks to you, I don't have to give up my Merlin Chocolate Frog Card to the Corvus twins!"

"Ruddy brilliant!" boomed Hagrid over the heads of the milling Gryffindors.

"That was quite some Patronus," said a voice in Harry's ear.

Harry turned to find Lupin standing proudly in his presence.

"You gave Mr Malfoy and Mr McElroy quite a fright," said Lupin.

"What d'you mean?" asked Harry.

"The Slytherins planned to sabotage your match," said Lupin. "They dressed up as Dementors to throw you off balance. Them, the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, Mr Crabbe and Mr Goyle. I daresay, they're being punished as we speak. Detention and fifty points lost apiece."

Liam could dance to that. Despite Gryffindor losing their Ayers match, the Quidditch team won, Harry managed to fend off the Dementors, even if they weren't Dementors, and Malfoy and McElroy were given detention.

"Come on, Harry!" said George, fighting his way over. "Party! Gryffindor common room, now!"

And suddenly Liam felt woozy. Only then had he noticed the hundreds and hundreds of students that crowded him. The cheering and roaring of delight was like an annoying buzz in his ear, and the energy Liam once had to boost him to watch the match had disappeared. He bustled with the crowd all the way up to the Gryffindor Tower, hardly aware of his actions, and when entering the common room he dropped onto the long couch and passed out.

Harry felt good. The one thing that worried him most – losing to Ravenclaw – was now a ridiculous thought. Also, he managed to cast a Patronus, even if it hit Draco Malfoy and Adrian McElroy instead. It was still under pressure and he still made a good enough one to defend himself. The party went on all day and well into the night. Fred and George Weasley disappeared for a couple of hours and returned with armfuls of bottles of butterbeer, pumpkin fizz, and several bags full of Honeydukes sweets.

It was a wonder where they got it from to everyone else, but after hinting to Harry, he learnt that it was with the aid of Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs – as well as their mentioned companions Silverpaw, Stripes and Pitch. Every single Gryffindor seemed to be enjoying the festive mood. All except Liam, who was snoring into a pillow on the long couch, and Hermione, who was attempting to read an enormous book entitled _Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles_ _._ Harry started for her, and spoke before she had the chance to shoo him away.

"Did you even come to the match?" asked Harry.

"Yes," said Hermione. She glanced up, but it was not at Harry. She looked past him and Harry did not make an effort to look. "I'm glad we won but, please Harry, I need to read this book before Monday and I still have four hundred and thirty three pages to go."

"Where's Tessa?" asked Harry.

"She's gone to make an inquiry about our Astronomy homework with Professor Sinistra," said Hermione. She took another glance up.

"Did _she_ make it to the match?" questioned Harry.

"Yes, she did," said Hermione. And she peeked past her book again, this time Harry turned to see was she was looking at, only to find that her gaze was on Liam.

"Thinking he's too lazy to do anything anymore?" asked Harry.

"No, I'm worried," she said, still looking at Liam. Harry's eyes tore away from his cousin and fixed on Hermione. _Hermione Granger was_ worried _about Liam Clark ... that was new._ She looked up at him and said, "Tessa told me that he came after me when Ron said – you know what he said. She said he spent a whole half hour looking for me to see if I was okay ... is that true?"

"True," answered Harry. But that was genuinely based on the fact that he hated it when people were sad. Hermione glanced over at Liam again, and then buried her face in her book.

"C'mon, Hermione, join us," said Harry.

"Like I said, Harry, I've got four hundred and thirty-three pages left to read. Beside ..." she looked up again, this time at Ron. _"He_ doesn't want me to join in."

At that moment, as though on cue, Ron had said loudly, "If Scabbers hadn't just been _eaten_ , he could have had some of those Fudge Flies. He used to really like them –"

Hermione burst into tears. Before Harry could say or do anything, she tucked the enormous book under her arm, and, still sobbing, ran toward the staircase to the girls's dormitories and out of sight.

"Can't you give her a break?" Harry asked Ron quietly.

"No," said Ron flatly. "If she just acted like she was sorry – but she'll never admit she's wrong, Hermione. She's still acting like Scabbers has gone on vacation or something."

Liam was vaguely aware of the party that happened around him. The roaring, the eery loud pops, they could have woken him up at any point but he slept through it like it were a mere dream. He could hear the loud bustle of the Gryffindors having drinking competitions with butterbeer, Fred and George's bet on who could reach the ceiling first after eating a certain amount of Fizzing Wheebeez ... he even heard the little gamble Beck Lavery was playing with Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas somewhere in the corner of the common room. This all happened in the same place and it seemed like such a distant event, like he were standing outside, fighting with Sir Cadogan to get into the common room, hearing the joyful festivities within.

He was grateful that nothing woke him, he really needed the sleep. Beside, he wasn't too sure the party would have continued if he had woken up and yelled at everybody to shut up as he slept. He had tried to promise not to snap at anyone for interrupting his sleep. That is, of course, until he heard –

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Liam woke with a start and sat up. Rubbing his eyes, he realised he was in the common room, spread across the long couch. Suddenly, there was shuffling, and Liam stood. He could make out the outline of the person in the common room, but he seemed in a hurry.

"Hey, what are you doing?" he grouched, but the person didn't listen. He took a step forward, "Hey –"

He stumbled back as he caught a glimpse of the man's face in the gloomy darkness of the common room. Lank, dark curls covering his sunken face. Spindly hand clutching something in his hand.

"SIRIUS BLACK!"

And just then he was blinded. The light came out of nowhere and he stumbled back, tripping over the leg of the table and landing flat on his back. He lay hopelessly on his back, waiting for the notorious murderer to kill him with the swipe of his wand, but nothing happened. A moment later he heard murmuring, and, louder than all, Ron's voice.

"Black! Sirius Black! With a knife!"

"What?" said Harry.

"Here! Just now! Slashed the curtains! Woke me up!"

"You sure you weren't dreaming, Ron?" said Dean.

"Look at the curtains! I tell you, he was here!"

At least he knew he wasn't hallucinating. He tried to get up but a pang of pain surged through his back. He realised he hit the corner of the table on his way down. He groaned, and then people surrounded him, Ron was wrestled into an armchair.

"Who shouted?"

"What're you doing?"

"I'm telling you, I saw him!"

"What's all the noise?"

"Professor McGonagall and Professor McDonald told us to go to bed!"

"Everyone, back to their beds!" said Percy Weasley who, along with the other Head Boy – who was tall, dark haired and handsome – started governing everyone back to the stairs.

"Why're you on the floor, Liam?" Harry asked.

Liam grunted, "Sirius Black!"

Everyone froze.

"What?" asked Percy.

"Sirius Black!" said Ron faintly. "In our dormitory! With a knife! Woke me up!"

"Nonsense!" said Percy, looking startled. "You had too much to eat, Ron – had a nightmare –"

"I'm telling you –"

"He's telling the truth –" brought up Liam, sitting up.

"Now, really, enough's enough!"

Professor McDonald and McGonagall were back. They slammed the portrait behind them and stared around furiously.

"We are both very glad that Gryffindor won, but this is getting out of control," said Professor McGonagall.

"I expect a lot more from you, Percy," said McDonald.

"I did not permit any such actions, Professors," said Percy. "I was just telling them all to go to bed. My brother, Ron, and his friend, Liam, both had similar nightmares."

"IT WASN'T A NIGHTMARE!" Ron yelled. "PROFESSOR, I WOKE UP, AND SIRIUS BLACK WAS STANDING OVER ME, HOLDING A KNIFE!"

Both professors looked at Liam as though hoping he would justify that it was all just a dream.

"He's telling the truth," said Liam. "I was sleeping down here – I suppose nobody bothered waking me up – but I heard a scream – Ron's screaming – and I woke up to some shuffling – and – and there he was – he stood there, looking at me – I had just enough time to scream his name before he cast some type of blinding light that made me stumble back into the table."

"This is ridiculous!" said Professor McDonald. "How could Black possibly get into the common room?"

"Ask him, then!" snapped Ron, pointing at Sir Cadogan's picture. "Ask the replacement! Sir What's-His-Face!"

"Sir Cadogan, did you just let a man enter Gryffindor Tower?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"Certainly, good lady!" cried Sir Cadogan.

There was a stunned silence, both inside and outside the common room.

"You – you _did?_ " said Professor McGonagall. "But – but the password!"

"He had 'em!" said Sir Cadogan proudly. "Had the whole week's, my lady! Read 'em off a little piece of paper!"

Professor McGonagall and Professor McDonald pulled themselves back through the portrait hole to face the stunned crowd. She was white as chalk.

"Which person," she said, her voice shaking, "which abysmally foolish person wrote down this week's passwords and left them lying around?"

The silence broke, Neville Longbottom, shaking, lifted his hand up slowly.


	15. Sick to the Bone

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Sick To The Bone

Harry had to keep going back to why Black ran. Why didn't he just finish Ron where he stood? Why not kill everyone else in the dormitory to ensure that Harry Potter had died? He had to think that Black was smart enough to leave before the entire common room surrounded him. And poor Neville had been punished for leaving the password around. He was forced to wait around for Gryffindors to let him in and had received a Howler from his grandmother.

At least there was a bright side to Black's appearance: Ron became an instant celebrity. He retold his story to anyone who would listen, and he was barely aware that they had tightened security – until, of course, he bumped into one of the trolls that stood just outside the Gryffindor common room. They were there because Sir Cadogan had been fired and the Fat Lady had returned, but only on the terms of having the trolls lumbering around on her guard.

But that didn't seem enough. Professor Flitwick and Professor Sunderland went around enchanting anything that looked like a means to enter the school. Leaks, cracks, mouse holes ... Harry had once seen them searching through the out-of-bound girl's bathroom (Harry doubted Sirius Black would access the inside of the castle through the girl's bathroom ... or that Moaning Myrtle would allow him to go past without forcing him to apologise for coming in there ...) Filch and Gray loomed around every corridor, patrolling classroom after classroom and guarding every open window.

Apart from that, Harry was convince that Liam needed a walking stick just to get around the school. His knees shook like his bones were string, and they were trying their best to endure his weight so that he wouldn't fall. Harry refrained from talking to him because he was just as lethal as Hermione and Tessa. Liam concentrated a lot on just walking that he would snap if he saw a looming presence nearby.

Harry became sour about the fact that Liam had been the only Gryffindor he knew that was sick, but when he looked around he was alarmed at the amount that were sick. Beck Lavery's usually radiant beaming face had glowed weakly behind his bleak complexion. His eyes bagged, he looked like it took a lot of effort to breath and his hands constantly shook. Parvati Patil didn't seem too good, either, and Lavender Brown kept feeding her a lumpy, greyish soup whispering "C'mon, drink up ... you remember what Professor Trelawney said ...", which Harry had to roll his eyes at. A couple of fifth years were struggling to keep their concentration in studying for their OWLs. They were all pale and weak and sniffed almost every second – Harry was glad the usual chatter around the common room was loud enough to block it out.

Percy Weasley, who was although not ill, looked just as pale as anyone else that Harry supposed he might as well have been. He was stressing so much about his NEWTs that he barely had time to do anything else, being Head Boy as one. Harry found that not every seventh year had been fretting so much about their exams – they weren't so close. Hermione and Tessa had to be the only other people working just as hard.

Looking at every sick person in the common room made Harry feel hopeless. They were plagued with something that couldn't be cured, according to Von Seiler, and their only hope was to give up a Muggle-born student so that they could act as a type of sacrifice to bring Sargas Scorpiosting back to life.

But despite being sick, Liam still tried his best to be fit enough to play against Slytherin in their next Ayers match. He would speed around the stadium with such speed that Harry became woozy after looking at him, and he would challenge himself to nearly go as high as the Soarer so that he could drop at a respectable height in order to practice kicking off for momentum. Harry could tell that his cousin was getting fed up with being sick, and he was just as frustrated about seeing other sick students; Harry once caught Liam swearing to Scorpiosting and promising that he would kill him if he got the chance – he was over exaggerating, but Harry could get why he would want to.

Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students were just as sick. Most of them dragged along corridors, most having to explain that they were finding it difficult to walk around the school to some of the teachers. Liam had once told Harry that Draco Malfoy was sick too, and that he couldn't help but think that it was because he fiddled with Scorpiosting's Chest. But if that were true, then surely Adrian McElroy would have gotten sick, too. Harry refused to think Adrian McElroy was lucky enough to be immune to the sickness.

He didn't need must justification. Adrian McElroy was the centre of attention in the Great Hall for breakfast. He coughed and sneezed louder than any other students that Harry almost thought he was faking it to attract sympathy. But his sister Dmitri seemed so worried about him that it cancelled that thought immediately.

Harry was glad to know that something could make Liam's day, even if it wasn't him. He had been complaining about walking once and seemed a lot better after bumping into Breeanne Shacklebolt. After learning what she looked like at the Quidditch match they began seeing her more frequently than usual, and she often commented on Liam's performance against Hufflepuff and would wish him well for his sickness, even though she had the very same one. Harry found this his best opportunities to make fun of his cousin, because Breeanne had the uncanny ability to bring out a tinge of red in his ever-pale cheeks.

The thing that took Harry, though, was not Liam's odd crush for the incredibly tall Ravenclaw third-year, but Hermione's odd concern for Liam's wellbeing. If it were a few months ago, Hermione's way of expressing concern over Liam's sickness was "Shame, I hope you feel better," and an awkward tap on the back. Now, she took breaks even from her homework to show her level of worry. Harry found this odd and a little strange; he never thought he would see the day Hermione and Liam didn't see each other as enemies.

Harry had the very same feeling when he watched his cousin put in the effort to chase after Hermione after Ron had hurt her, despite his weak knees and exceedingly low energy. He found it odd that Liam had the same amount of concern for Hermione that she had for him. Hermione had once attempted to thank Liam for putting the effort in, but it resulted in an awkward moment between the two.

But Harry was most shocked when they walked into the Great Hall that day. Liam was again complaining about walking and this time Breeanne Shacklebolt wasn't there to brighten up his day. Not only did he complain, he was groggy and sleepy and didn't look like he could go through the day without taking a heavy nap. Harry had grown tired of his complaining, but in his state it seemed that was all they could talk about.

"My limbs are almost always sore and I can't even see where I'm going half the time," moaned Liam, who had to use his other hand to stabilise his shaking one so that he could set three good rashers of bacon on his plate without dropping them. "My throat feels raw and numb and I'm coughing more than I can talk –" with that he dropped the spoon in the bacon bowl and used his hands to cover his mouth as he broke into a fit of inflamed coughs; it wasn't the most pleasing thing to hear during breakfast, but Harry learnt to get used to it.

Harry found it unnerving that he could eat without losing his appetite when hearing the many rounds of wet coughs in the air of the Great Hall. He ate with just as much ease and enjoyed his breakfast, although he found that it tasted very odd ... unlike usual. He put the thought aside, the food tasted great anyway.

"Attention," came Professor Glumberry's voice. The clinking, coughing and chattering ended, and every head turned to the Headmaster that stood before them. "All ill students are encouraged to attend an orientation regarding this certain disease later this evening at eight o'clock. Everyone else is also welcomed, should they wish to know more about this. It will be held here in the Great Hall, thank you."

Glumberry retreated to his eat at the staff table and he and Dumbledore regarded one of the teachers who looked just as sick and pale as Liam.

"Food's a bit different, don't you think?" asked Liam.

"Your voice –" he looked at his cousin and stared at him in awe. His voice was much more clear, as though the thousand wads of imaginary cotton that had been stuffed up his nose had suddenly disappeared. He thought that Liam may have found a way to not sound sick, but his face showed otherwise. His face – could bare colour again. His cheeks were glowing red and his usual brownish-yellow complexion was back.

"Harry, you're freaking me out," said Liam.

"How do you feel?" asked Harry.

"Fine," said Liam. "I think I just needed breakfast ... I do get grumpy when I'm hungry."

"But – you look like you're cured," said Harry.

"What're you talking about –" Harry held up a spoon in his face. Liam was taken aback. He looked at his reflection, which was upside down, and managed just to utter the words, "Red ..." and he tenderly touched his cheeks.

Liam looked around him and Harry followed after. There was not a single pale face in the Great Hall now, it was as if the sick students were all just the trick of the light.

"How?" asked Harry.

"What, you think I know," asked Liam, who was smiling. "Right now, I'm going to enjoy that this stupid plague is gone!"

And Liam began to take advantage of the fact that he could now stretch his arms and legs without cringing in pain. He took a deep breath in, as though taking in every single smell in the Great Hall, and then melted in joy.

"Oh how I've missed the smell of bacon in the morning!" said Liam.

Even though cheesy, Harry laughed and he wasn't aware of the owl that had now perched itself near the plate of toast. It wasn't Hedwig, Patches or Errol so Harry could cancel out that it was from his aunt and uncle, but the letter was still for them. Ron had taken the scroll and the owl flew off.

" _Hiya boys,"_ Ron read, _"Just wondering if you guys can come over tonight at six o'clock, I've prepared my Baumunchen cake again, thought you might know. Anyway, I don't supposed Hagrid would mind the company and I just need to clear some stuff with you three. I'll be by to pick you up. You're not really allowed to go out by yourselves._

" _Cheers._

" _Dreagon."_

So at six o'clock, after having a hearty conversation with Beck about the wonders of walking around without trouble in the common room, Liam was eager to lead Harry and Ron to the entrance hall where they had to dodge a couple of guard trolls. Dreagon had already been there and had smiled at their approach. The large, blonde giant had led them out of the Hogwarts castle and towards his and Hagrid's hut near the Forbidden Forest. Harry had immediately noticed the light fragrance of Dreagon's liquid cake, and noticeable pinkish smoke coming from the chimney. As they drew nearer to the hut, Harry heard mumbling coming from the inside – Hagrid talking to Buckbeak ... and he was saying something about the trial.

Harry's heart sunk. He'd forgotten all about the trial. Dreagon allowed them in and their eyes immediately cast on Buckbeak, who was sitting nicely in the corner being stroked by a blubbering Hagrid. Liam's lack of zeal just went to say that he'd forgotten all about the trial, too.

"Have a seat, boys," said Dreagon gesturing them seats.

"Oh – err – hi boys – how're yeh?" sobbed Hagrid.

"Fine, Hagrid," said Liam hopefully, but when Hagrid said nothing he sat in the seat Dreagon gestured for him, staring vacantly at the cauldron of the liquid cake. Harry thought it might have been because he wanted some, but the expression on his face just told him that he was trying to ease the guilt of forgetting the trial.

"Cake, anyone?" offered Dreagon, stirring the cauldron. "It's better in'na cup ... It's extra creamy ... bin practicin' I have ... tastes real good ..."

"I'll have some, Dreagon," said Liam softly.

Dreagon's face lit up for a moment, then he brought out a large mug, poured some of his liquid cake in it and handed it to Liam.

"Thanks, Dreagon ... err ... I don't mean to be rude, but I kinda need to be back at the castle at eight," said Liam.

"Right, tha' orientation ... 'ope it helps, I 'ate seein' yeh sufferin' ... sniffin' an' all," said Dreagon. He himself had a mug of cake and sat in a seat of his own. "Listen, 'bout Hermione –"

"What about her?" snapped Ron.

"She's pretty upset abou' you accusin' her cat of –"

"Eating Scabbers! Well she should be! She doesn't want to admit that her cat killed my rat!" spat Ron.

"Thas the point, Ron," said Dreagon. "She's upset you accused her in the firs' place. She comes over everyday ... bin feelin' lonely, she has ... she was shocked when Black came in the way he did, slashin' yer curtains, Ron ... and when he blew you backwards – Liam, I can' tell ye how furious she was –"

"She'll be fine, Dreagon," assured Liam. And he said it with a kind of determination that made Harry think the feud between the two was over. "I'll make sure of it."

"Ah ... always count on you ... gotta heart of gold, don't yeh?" said Dreagon, patting Liam on the back.

Liam scoffed.

"Yeah, well, Tessa's bin busy," said Dreagon. "Hermione an' her hardly see each other anymore. Hermione spends her time here helpin' with Buckbeak's case –"

"We should have been here, too," said Harry, looking at Hagrid in hope that it would at least cheer him up, but his eyes never left the majestic Hippogriff.

"We're not blamin' yeh," said Dreagon, drawing his attention away from Hagrid. "Yeh've been busy as well. I've seen you two –" he pointed at Harry and Liam, "– practin' on the pitch everyday, it's jus' – thought yeh'd value yer friend more than broomsticks, rats an' flyin' shoes."

"Listen, Hermione and I have never been on good terms," said Liam calmly. "But I'll try making her better."

It wasn't an answer Harry expected to hear from Liam.

"If she'd just get rid of that cat, I'd speak to her again!" Ron said angrily. "But she's still sticking up for it! It's a maniac, and she won't hear a word against it!"

"Why don't we talk about something else?" asked Liam. "Quidditch? Ayers?"

They spent the rest of their visit discussing Gryffindor's chances for the Quidditch and Ayers Cups. At eight o'clock, Dreagon walked them back up to the castle, leaving Hagrid alone with Buckbeak and a big mug of Baumunchen Sugar cake.

The one thing that Harry kept thinking about was Liam's determination to stand for Hermione, which led to why she was so concerned about him, too. He could not wrap his mind around the sudden change of heart in both of them.

Harry decided to join Liam and hear the orientation. There were a lot of people there, nearly the entire school. If Harry hadn't known why everyone was here, he would have thought this was the whole school. Draco and Adrian were with the Slytherins, annoyed that they had to sit through this. Dmitri linked her arms with her brother and fell asleep on his shoulder – a sight Harry had never thought he would have to see.

Then his eyes trailed along the Gryffindor table and was shocked to see Hermione there, a book wedged in her arms. Harry wondered why she had been there and how this was more important than all of her homework. As far as he knew she wasn't suffering from this, too.

Five minutes went by and still nobody came. Harry doubted anyone would come. Von Seiler had said nobody knew where this sickness came from or how to cure it. Who was so skilled that they could bend that explicit piece of history? Harry shuffled in his seat and tuned in on the conversation Liam had with Beck, Simon, Seamus and Dean. They were ranting on about how Slytherin had no chance against Harry's Firebolt. He was about to chip it when –

"Sorry we're late, we bumped into a couple of trolls along the way ... they aren't too friendly." Harry wasn't sure he heard correctly, but the man who just spoke sounded remotely like his Uncle Tom. He looked up, eyes trailing after two figures. One was considerably shorter and slimmer than the other, and was undoubtedly a woman. The other, of course, was a man. They didn't wear anything Harry would find a typical wizard to wear, which is why he thought they were his uncle and aunt. They were both clad in jeans and matching sweaters.

When they turned to face the crowd, Harry knew. There stood his aunt, with her dark red locks tied into a ponytail, and his uncle, who seemed way to happy to be sharing news on a deadly disease. They gave him the feeling that maybe this sickness wasn't so bad after all, or maybe they had done something to fix it. Then a strange feeling coursed through him. He couldn't define what exactly but somewhere in the midst he was relieved that nothing bad had happened to them. However, "Hogsmeade" kept popping up in his head and he mentally noted to ask them about it when the orientation was done.

"I'm Thomas Clark," said Mr Clark, pointing to himself. Harry cast a look to the side and saw Draco and Adrian's incredulous expressions. They didn't seem to like being told what to do by Liam's parents. "And the beautiful woman standing beside me here is my wife, Angela."

Harry hadn't noticed that nearly everyone had been looking at Liam until he made the effort to look at him himself. It didn't appear as though Liam was very aware of the amount of eyes on him either. Harry hadn't had the chance to point this out to Liam before he looked up and realised his aunt and uncle had been looking at him.

"Now, I'm sure you're all feeling lively today after breakfast," Mr Clark's eyes now ventured around the Great Hall, laying eyes on each house, even Slytherin, for at least two seconds. "I hate to boast, but that is because of us. You see, Mrs Clark and I are highly trained Healers and certified Potionsmasters. We fashioned something that we spiked in your breakfast that would make you feel a lot better than you were, and we just have one question for you guys: do you feel better?"

Every house, but Slytherin, had roared, "YES!"

"Splendid!" Mr Clark beamed at them. "Now, we're not going to lie to you, this is an incredibly difficult potion to make because this sickness if very difficult to cure, which means we haven't yet gotten a cure but we're high on that road."

"We highly advise that you do approach this with caution," said Mrs Clark. "Your History of Magic professor, Victor Von Seiler, has informed us that this illness is called "Scorpomorbus" – it's derived from the ancient Dwarvish speech Pumilio. We've worked out that it is an incredibly advance sickness, but not acute, which means that it isn't typically severe."

"It is a degenerative illness, meaning that it progressively gets worse. One of the many symptoms is febrile and we can give you some medication to level the fever," said Mr Clark.

"Again, we're not going to lie, Scorpomorbus is invasive, and we are unsure whether or not it is mortal or terminal as no one has yet died from it."

"Each one of you has a strangulated part of your body that does not have enough blood flowing to it. Luckily the potion that we gave you this morning has cleared up any clotted blood or issues and there should be enough blood flowing throughout your body."

"So far the illness has been unresponsive. Usual autoimmune aspects of the body are attacked until vulnerable, leaving you highly susceptible if you're not immune. Now there's apparently a process in you go through before one dies. You get "bitten" or stung by something and a scorpion will form on your wrist like a tattoo."

"After being "bitten" by the scorpion sting, you are sure to endure chronic pain, meaning that you will be experiencing extreme pain mostly near your wrist or arm. Should you be experiencing this we do ask that you please approach us about the matter."

"This is a communicable disease, which means it can be passed on. However, Mr Clark and I have fashioned some potions that could help with contagion levels and some that might slow this process down. Please do come see us should you feel you need any kind of potions for any symptoms, we would be more than happy to help."

"That concludes that," said Mr Clark, and immediately students stood. They all rushed into a line in front of Mr and Mrs Clark ( _Well, there goes my chance of asking to go to Hogsmeade,_ Harry thought), all except Liam, who was more interested in Hermione.

"You can go, Harry, I will meet you there," said Liam and he went off to her. The last thing he heard before turning and leaving were the two meeting each other with "Granger" and "Clark".

Harry and Liam went searching for Mr and Mrs Clark at the start of the weekend. Another Hogsmeade visit came up and they were determined to get Harry permission to go. They searched classroom after classroom and could not find them until they bumped into Professor Sunderland, who hurriedly told them that they had gone out to the Forbidden Forest to collect something for the cure of Scorpiosting's sickness.

So naturally, Harry told Liam to go off to Hogsmeade without him. Maybe he'd see him and Ron there later underneath his Invisibility Cloak.

"Oh, I won't be going with Ron," said Liam casually. Harry screwed up his face. Who else would Liam go with? Beck? Callum? Tessa? Ron was the most ideal person to walk around Hogsmeade with, for Liam anyway.

"What do you mean you're not going with Ron? Who are you going with?" asked Harry.

Liam quickly looked away and then looked back at Harry with a smile.

"I'm meeting someone there," said Liam. By the way he blushed, the first person that popped into mind was Breeanne Shacklebolt. She was the only person that managed to make him blush when he couldn't. "Shouldn't be a long meet up. I'll catch up to Ron eventually."

Harry chose not to bother him any longer. He walked Liam off and then went straight back up to the Gryffindor Tower to gather his Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map. As he tread his way back down to the statue of the one-eye witch, Harry's mind kept racing back to how much easier this would have been if he just had permission. But, of course, his permission was wandering around the Forbidden Forest.

Harry wasn't sure he liked the idea of his aunt and uncle searching through the Forbidden Forest. He had just recently learnt that a blood-sucking race of vampires swarmed just outside the protective barriers of the Lamiconitum trees, and Harry knew all too well of the hoarding Acromantulas. He could vividly remember escaping them and their leader, Aragog, last year. Large, gigantic spiders where their eight eyes were as big as the plates in the Great Hall was not something you wanted to be alone with in the Forbidden Forest – and Harry was told his uncle disliked spiders very much.

Harry ran off to the one-eyed witch and crouched behind it. He opened the its hump and pushed his bag through the hole, hearing it slide down the hatch. He pulled the Marauders Map out his robes and whispered, _"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!"_ and a tiny little dot on the map showed that a person was nearby: Neville Longbottom. What was Neville doing out here? _Oh, that's right, his visits were provoked._ It was another punishment for leaving the passwords around. He quickly pulled his invisibility cloak over his head and slipped into the hatch. Walking towards the end of the tunnel, Harry had reached the store room of Honeydukes and through the trapdoor. He found Ron around the **Unusual** **Tastes** compartment.

"Why do I always find you here?" asked Harry, and Ron looked around uncertainly. "It's me, Ron. Harry. I'm under the cloak."

"Harry, what took you?" Ron asked.

"I was seeing Liam off," said Harry. "We went to go look for his parents so that I could have permission to come here ... no luck."

"Speaking of Liam, d'you have any idea where he is?" asked Ron.

"Said he was meeting someone here and that he'll catch up to you later," said Harry. "I reckon he's gone out with Breeanne Shacklebolt."

"Why?" asked Ron, grinning.

"Got a thing for her," said Harry.

Ron snickered, and then the two of them, Harry under he cloak, left Honeydukes, setting off in the High Street.

"Where are you?" Ron kept muttering. "This feels weird ..."

They visited Zonko's, which was incredibly packed; Harry had to take extra care not to tread on anyone and cause a panic. There were jokes and tricks to fulfil even Fred's and George's wildest dreams; Harry gave Ron whispered orders and passed him some gold from under the cloak. They left Zonko's with their money bags considerably lighter than they had been on entering, but their pockets bulging with Dungbombs, Hiccup Sweets, Frog Spawn Soap, and a Nose-Biting Teacup apiece.

"I can't wait to – _umpf!"_ Harry had bumped into someone and nearly slipped out of his cloak when he fell. He quickly stood as the person turned around.

"You two?" stammered Ron, perplexed. _"Together?"_

Harry faced the person he bumped into and was shocked to see who he was with. His cousin Liam stood beside Hermione with his hands in his pockets. He didn't seem bothered that he was there with Hermione or that Ron had caught them together, in fact, he and Hermione were smiling – _well that's something I never thought I'd see in my life._

"Since when –"

"I told Dreagon I'd take care of it," said Liam, turning to Hermione and sparking a smile, one in which she returned. "This is me taking care of it."

"But you didn't _promise_ anything," said Ron.

"I don't need to make a promise to keep to my word," said Liam. "Besides, lying is just as bad as breaking one." His cousin looked in the empty space beside Ron, straight at Harry. He spared him a look that Harry thought might have been _Sorry I didn't tell you._

"B-but –" stuttered Ron, "you should be with us, venturing through Hogsmeade ... pillaging Honeydukes and Zonko's ... finding ways to get into that Shrieking Shack ..."

"Us?" asked Hermione. "Harry's here –"

"I have a different agenda to follow," said Liam, who probably interrupted Hermione because he didn't want her telling Harry off for being at Hogsmeade. "Something a little more important than stacking up on sweets and Dungbombs –"

"And _this_ was more important than hanging out with your _actual friends ..._ befriending the _Rat Killer,"_ spat Ron angrily. Hermione looked away and Liam stepped in front of her. "Are you forgetting she doesn't _care_ about you? She'd rather make sure she passes her exams than the make sure you're fit and healthy to get through the next day!"

Harry knew that wasn't entirely true. Hermione seemed more concerned about Liam's wellbeing than he did. She seemed to notice that this sickness was not friendly to anyone, and that if nothing's done before Scorpiosting gets impatient they will all die, Liam included.

"You're using your rat's disappearance as a way to make Hermione look bad only because you _assume_ her cat was the culprit," said Liam. "Like I said before, you can't blame her for wanting a pet. I spend most my time with Patches at home, I don't have he luxury of company like you. You've got six siblings, four of which are at home with you. The only time I can hope to talk to anyone is when my parents aren't busy, and trust me when I say they get so busy they even forget where they are ... they make up for it, of course, but that's a moment's satisfaction."

Harry never knew his aunt and uncle were so busy. He knew they were doctors in the Muggle world, but what more can doctors do in the comforts of their own home? Harry could only recall one instance in which Mr and Mrs Clark were so busy that they couldn't even be there for Liam and Harry, and that was early at the start of the term where they had been in Rome trying to decipher a way to open Scorpiosting's chest.

"Fine!" spat Ron. "Run off! Go enjoy time alone with the Rat Killer! See if I care! Take her side and run off! Oh –" Ron craned his neck around Liam so that he could see past him and at Hermione, "– and thanks a lot for stealing my friend, Hermione! Haven't you done enough damage already?"

"Come on, Hermione," said Liam, turning away from them, "Let's get some butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks."

"Liam –" called Harry, and he took a risk ... he took the cloak off his head. He wanted to try reason with Liam. There was not a doubt that Crookshanks ate Scabbers, but he didn't want a straying relationship with his cousin.

"Don't try, Harry ... I didn't mean for this to happen ..." said Liam, sympathy riddled on his face; he wasn't liking this any more than Harry was. "Better put that cloak of yours back on ... don't want to be spotted, do you?" and awkwardly, Liam turned around and hesitated before walking off with Hermione.

Only when he was out of sight did Harry put his cloak back on, but it had been too late as someone had called –

"Potter?"

He and Ron turned and, although Harry was fully invisible again, Draco Malfoy looked like he had seen a ghost. And before Ron could do anything, Draco sped back down the High Street, running towards the Hogwarts castle. Adrian and Dmitri McElroy behind him.

"Oh no, Harry, you better get back to the castle," said Ron.

He didn't need to be told twice. Harry sped off to Honeydukes, went back down the cellar steps, across the stone floor, through the trapdoor – Harry pulled off the cloak, tucked it under his arm, and ran, flat out, along the passage ... Malfoy would get back first ... how long would it take him to find a teacher? Harry didn't slow down. He was panting and there was a sharp pain in his side, but he didn't want to risk slowing down.

He'd have to leave the Cloak where it was, it was a giveaway. He would be caught by a teacher who would have been told that Harry went off to Hogsmeade without permission, and then to have his Invisibility Cloak with him would just tell them that he had done what Malfoy said.

He left the Cloak in a shadowy corner and then climbed the stone slide. He reached the inside of the witch's hump, tapped it with his wand, stuck his head through, and hoisted himself out. When he was on the corridor, he started walking, in large, swift strides. And then he turned into another and into Professor Snape.

"Well ..." sneered Snape, Harry couldn't mistake the triumphant gleam on his face. "Come with me, Potter."

They walked down the stairs to the dungeons and then into Snape's office.

This had been the second time Harry would have been in here, and he knew this wasn't going to be the last time he paid a visit here.

"Sit," said Snape.

Harry sat. Snape, however, remained standing.

"Mr Malfoy has just been to see me with a strange story, Potter," said Snape.

Harry didn't say anything.

"He tells me he saw Weasley – alone – talking to Clark and Granger."

Still, Harry didn't speak.

"Mr Malfoy states that Weasley was arguing with Clark and that he was going to stop it from happening –" Harry tried not to snort, "– when suddenly your head popped out of nowhere."

Harry tried to look mildly surprised.

"Could you tell me why your head was in Hogsmeade when it's not supposed to be in Hogsmeade?" asked Snape.

"I don't know, professor," said Harry. "Sounds like Malfoy's hallucin–"

"Mr and Miss McElroy support what he saw," said Snape, his eyes boring into his. "If your head was in Hogsmeade, so was the rest of you."

"I've been up in Gryffindor Tower," said Harry. "Like you told –"

"Can anyone confirm that?"

Harry didn't say anything. Snape's thin mouth curled into a horrible smile.

"How extraordinarily like your father you are, Potter," Snape said suddenly. "The resemblance between you is truly uncanny. "Your father didn't set much store by rules either. Rules were for lesser mortals, not Quidditch Cup-winners. His head was so swollen –"

"SHUT UP!"

" _What did you say to me, Potter?_ _"_

"I told you to shut up about my dad!" Harry yelled. "I know the truth, all right? He saved your life! Dumbledore told me! You wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for my dad!"

"And did the headmaster tell you the circumstances in which your father saved my life?" he whispered. "Or did he consider the details too unpleasant for precious Potter's delicate ears? Your father was no saint, Potter! Don't think he was any type of hero! Your father and his friends played a highly amusing joke on me that would have resulted in my death if your father hadn't got cold feet at the last moment. There was nothing brave about what he did. He was saving his own skin as much as mine. Had their joke succeeded, he would have been expelled from Hogwarts!"

Snape's uneven, yellowish teeth were bared.

"Turn out your pockets, Potter!" he spat suddenly.

Harry didn't move. There was a pounding in his ears.

"Turn out your pockets, or we go straight to the headmaster! Pull them out, Potter!"

Cold with dread, Harry slowly pulled out the bag of Zonko's tricks and the Marauder's Map.

Snap picked up the Zonko's bag.

"Ron and Liam ... they gave them to me," said Harry hurriedly.

"And ... what is this?" he picked up the Map.

"Spare piece of parchment," said Harry.

"Surely you wouldn't need such and _old_ piece of parchment, why not throw it away –"

"NO!"

"So ... it does mean more to you than an extra piece of parchment ... perhaps it has something to do with a way to get into Hogsmeade," said Snape. "Let's see –" he brought out his wand and tapped the piece of parchment, "Reveal your secrets!"

Nothing happened. Harry clenched his hands to stop them from shaking.

"Show yourself!" Snape said, tapping the map sharply.

It stayed blank. Harry was taking deep, calming breaths. "Professor Severus Snape, master of this school, commands you to yield the information you conceal!" Snape said, hitting the map with his wand.

As though an invisible hand were writing upon it, words appeared on the smooth surface of the map.

" _Mr Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people_ _'_ _s business._ _"_

Snape froze. Harry stared, dumbstruck, at the message. But the map didn't stop there. More writing was appearing beneath the first.

" _Mr Prongs agrees with Mr. Moony, and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git._ _"_

It would have been very funny if the situation hadn't been so serious. And there was more ...

" _Mr Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a professor._ _"_

Harry closed his eyes in horror. When he'd opened them, the map had had its last word.

" _Mr Wormtail bids, Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball._ _"_

Harry waited for the blow to fall.

"We'll see about this!" snapped Snape. "Ah, Professor Lupin –" _Oh, great!_ "– and – is that Mr Clark."

Harry tried to show little panic.

Professor Lupin came their way with Mr Clark following suit. His uncle didn't seem as though he was focussing much, he was too busy looking through some parchment, so Harry hoped that his uncle would be too sidetracked to hear in on what Snape had to say.

"You called, Severus," said Lupin.

"I have just asked Potter to empty his pockets. He was carrying this." Snape held out the Map which Lupin took.

"Oh, hi there Harry," said Mr Clark, looking up from his parchment. "What is it you want, Severus?"

"He said Harry was carrying this around," Lupin held the Map up at Mr Clark.

Mr Clark's eyes gleamed at the sight of it, and then he looked at his hand.

" _Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs ..."_ said Mr Clark, taking the Map and placing it on top of his wads of parchment.

"Well?" asked Snape.

Lupin and Mr Clark exchange looks.

"Well what?" asked Mr Clark, his signature smile on.

" _Well?_ _"_ said Snape again. "This parchment is plainly full of Dark Magic. This is supposed to be your area of expertise, Lupin. Where do you imagine Potter got such a thing?"

Lupin and Mr Clark exchanged another look.

"Full of Dark Magic?" asked Mr Clark and he looked at Lupin with the same jokester demeanour in that picture of Liam's. Harry looked up at Snape and found traces of regret hidden beneath his steely expression. "What d'you think, Remus? Is this full of Dark Magic?"

"Ah, Tom ... it looks to me as though it is merely a piece of old parchment that insults anybody who reads it. Childish, but surely not dangerous? I imagine Harry got it from a joke shop –"

"Ah, yes," said Mr Clark. "I daresay, one of Zonko's latest creations. Who got this for you, Harry? Ron? Liam? Probably Liam, I mean, if I were your friend, I would have gotten it for you."

"B-but – but –"

"Well, Severus, if you don't have any more firm proof to state that this is an item from the Dark Arts, would you mind I have it," said Lupin. "I am the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, I'll take care of it." Snape reluctantly gave Lupin the Map. "Now, if you may, please let Harry resume to whatever he was doing ..."

Snape sneered.

Harry didn't spare another look back, he followed Lupin and Mr Clark out of his office and back into the entrance hall. He was surprised when his uncle just kept walking on and out of the double oak doors, not even talking to Harry – or even smiling – before he was out of sight. _Great, there goes my next chance of asking for permission._

"Harry," said Lupin, drawing Harry's attention back to him. "I happen to know that this map was confiscated by Mr Filch many years ago. Yes, I know it's a map," he said as Harry looked amazed. "I don't want to know how it fell into your possession. I am, however, astounded that you didn't hand it in. Particularly after what happened the last time a student left information about the castle lying around. And I can't let you have it back, Harry.

"Don't expect me to cover up for you again, Harry. I cannot make you take Sirius Black seriously. But I would have thought that what you have heard when the dementors draw near you would have had more of an effect on you. Your parents gave their lives to keep you alive, Harry. A poor way to repay them – gambling their sacrifice for a bag of magic tricks."

"Professor, I –"

"Harry ... your uncle and aunt love you a lot ... they do ... please at least show _them_ you care," said Lupin. "I have to go, Harry. Please ..."

Lupin looked at him with a stern look, and then walk off. Harry had made his way up the stairs and was shocked at what he saw upon his arrival in the common room.

"Can you believe them!" yelled Ron.

"What –"

"Can you calm down so that we can focus on a more important matter?" Liam shouted at Ron.

Hermione and Tessa were in their usual spots but looked more in tune with the conversation than their Astronomy homework. Liam was on the long couch with an angry expression on and Ron was the only active one. He was standing, pacing. Harry wondered how the entire common room could go on without noticing what looked like an argument.

"What's going on?" asked Harry.

"Ron's upset about my little walk with Hermione," said Liam.

"You're still going on about that?" asked Harry.

"He doesn't believe it, does he?" asked Ron, pointing at Liam. "He doesn't believe Crookshanks ate Scabbers! That's why he's joined her, he doesn't believe me!"

"Ron, I'm sure –"

"Why else would he have joined her?" spat Ron. "He doesn't like Hermione any more than I do!"

"That's not true!" yelled Liam.

"Oh yeah?"

"That's right!" said Liam; Harry noticed just how much Hermione had lowered her head. "I don't hate her ... I never did. 'Hate' is a word I choose to describe how I feel towards Malfoy and the McElroys, not Hermione. I _disliked_ Hermione."

" _Disliked ..._ that's past tense ..."

"It's nice to see you've got some brains in you," jeered Liam, Harry had suspected they'd been doing this all day. "Past tense meaning I don't dislike Hermione anymore."

"How does a relationship like yours end up like that?" asked Ron. "First moment you two snapped at anything you said and now you're _besties_ ... walking about Hogsmeade like nothing ever happened between you two. How did you end up best friends, care to explain?"

"I wouldn't say we're best friends ..." murmured Hermione. Liam didn't seem bothered.

"I can't imagine you would understand," said Liam. "If you were me you'd know why I decided to fix this ... some people don't deserve those painful words you say about Hermione! She's a smart girl, Ron! I keep thinking that some of these students wouldn't have been here if it weren't for her and Tessa. They dropped that clue about the basilisk moving around in pipes, leading us to Myrtle's bathroom! Had we not known about that, your own _sister_ would be dead! So do me a favour and lay off her! She doesn't need to worry about your stupid rat all the time!"

"Don't you call Scabbers stupid –!"

"You've called him that several times!" said Liam. "He was old, anyway, it was only a matter of time ..."

Harry could agree with that. Scabbers was old even when Ron had gotten him as a pet, and he was looking rather sick.

"Someone said something about an important matter," Harry brought up.

There was a quick exchange of looks between Hermione, Tessa and Liam.

"Hagrid lost the trial," said Hermione grimly, "Buckbeak's going to be executed."


	16. What Droge Did

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

What Droge Did

" _What!"_ blurted Harry.

"Dreagon ... he sent me this," said Hermione, handing him a letter.

" _Dear Hermione,"_ Harry read,

" _I'd promised I'd keep you informed about the trial ... I ain't got any good news, though. We lost the case. Hagrid brought Beaky home ... Not sure when the execution's gonna be but soon, they said. Buckbeak enjoyed London, at least. Nearly blew this tiny wizard over when we arrived ... brought us a little joy. Thanks for the help. I can't tell you how much Hagrid appreciates it ... just hope's it was a little more firm ..._

" _Thanks again._

" _Dreagon."_

"They can't do that!" spat Ron.

"I should have gone to Venus about this!" said Liam, knocking his head with his palm. "He could've helped ... maybe picked up some tips from when my parents freed him, or – or he could've gotten an owl to them instead. He must have been getting more luck with the Owl Post than we have ..."

"Buckbeak isn't dangerous, couldn't they see that?" asked Harry.

"You know how Malfoy's dad's like," said Hermione, who began to tear up, "he can scare just about anyone in the Ministry –"

"And now that he's got Papa McElroy on his side," added Liam, standing and pacing. "Who knows how much they've pulled against Buckbeak?"

"They're having an appeal, though, there's always going to be an appeal," said Tessa. "Only, at the rate things are going at the moment, I can't see how anything is going to change ..."

"There's always hope," said Ron, "we can still win this –"

"I'll get my parents involved!" said Liam.

"They're too busy with the sickness," said Harry, sourly remembering his chance to ask his Uncle Tom permission to go to Hogsmeade walking right out the double oak doors of the entrance hall. "I've experienced that first hand ..."

"I'll drill it into their heads, then!" continued Liam. "They'll find me annoying and will nag at me for it, but it's worth trying. With their help I'm sure we'll win this."

"How sure?" asked Hermione, wiping her eyes.

"My dad's charm overrules McElroy's pathetic shortcuts," gloated Liam, grinning in a way that almost made him look like his dad. "If that saved Venus Sting, it can sure as hell save a Hippogriff."

And then Harry saw something that was among the list of things he thought he would never see in his life. Hermione flung her arms around Liam's neck, blubbering the words "Thank you!" so loudly it came as a shock that the common room wasn't silenced. Liam didn't hug back. He was staggered and mildly dazed about what was happening.

"I thought you two weren't _besties,"_ snickered Harry.

"Neither did I," choked Liam.

Harry felt bad about the little help he put into saving Buckbeak. Not only was Hagrid upset about the outcome of the trial, but Hermione was so passionate about it that she had broken down about it. He couldn't blame his cousin for trying to suggest the best possible ways of saving the Hippogriff, if he had the luxuries to make it happen, he would do it in a heartbeat.

They had planned to visit Hagrid and Dreagon but the tight security made it near impossible to see them after school hours. They only managed to sneak in some chats within Care of Magical Creatures lessons. Hagrid seemed numb with shock.

"S'all my fault. I got tongue-tied –"

"Now there, Rubi, yeh did fine," Dreagon reassured him. "It's Malfoy an' his _connections ..._ them no good snubs in the Committee'll do just abou' anythin' he says. An' with McElroy supportin' his claim ..."

"There's no telling what they've pulled against you ... that's exactly what I said to them," said Liam.

"There's still the appeal!" Ron said furiously. "We're working on it! We've got a plan, don't we, Liam?"

Liam screwed up his face and Harry thought he must have been wondering _since when are we ok, now?_ but he quickly shook of his expression and opened his mouth to speak.

"I'm going to nag my parents," said Liam.

"No!" said Hagrid. "Yeh parents are too busy to be worryin' abou' me ... with tha' sickness an'all."

"I'm not really going to give them a choice," said Liam. "They're going to have to do both. Trust me when I say they won't like the innocent life of a Hippogriff gone just as much as those sick with the plague. They can help."

"I'm not goin' teh allow yeh to do tha' fir me!" said Hagrid.

"I'm going to go ahead an do it anyway," said Liam. Hagrid's big, teary eyes bore into his. "Hagrid, I'm sure you know they're the reason Venus is out of jail. With a few pulled strings I'm sure they can turn the Committee against Malfoy. And hey, maybe they could even get him and McElroy off your case."

"An' how'd'ya suppose they do that?" asked Dreagon.

"By playing fire with fire," said Liam. "Blackmail isn't exactly a card they like to play in this gamble, but they play it anyway to secure the deal with someone as rotten as those Pureblooded loons."

"As you can see, Liam's a bit determined to show Malfoy and McElroy their place," said Tessa.

"Damn right!"

"We're really going to help this time," said Tessa. "No matter how much homework or problems we will have, we won't stop until we save Buckbeak."

The bell hummed.

"I ain't makin' any of yeh promise fir this! An' yeh better not!" said Dreagon. "Those exams, they're important. No use failin' them fir Beaky –"

"We're helping, Dreagon!" said Harry.

"If yeh must ..." said Hagrid. "Now off yeh go! You'll be late for yer next lesson."

They were in no hurry to get to Charms. They walked slowly behind the rest of the class so that there was a large gap between them. This gave them time to devise how they were going to approach this, as well as finding a way to catch Mr and Mrs Clark's attentions so that they could help with the appeal. The conversation slowly faded into the upcoming Quidditch and Ayers matches against Slytherin.

"I'm feeling a lot better with that whole thing my parents spiked breakfast with," said Liam. The breakfasts were unusual, but Harry didn't mind having it everyday because it didn't differ much apart from the feint coppery taste every now and then.

Harry thought Liam must have also been very excited about this match because he would be able to play in front of his parents for the first time ever. It was the feeling Harry got once they started talking about it. Although Thomas and Angela Clark were not his parents, they were the near equivalent and would have been just as proud ... if he plays nicely, that is.

"Got to be excited to play in front of your parents, I could imagine," said Harry.

"You can, indeed," said Liam. "First time they'll ever see me in action. Wish it was earlier but then that would mean they'd watch me in the green colours –"

"Talking about the upcoming match, Clark?" came a voice.

This time it was Adrian McElroy who stood at the head of the group. He was grinning particularly at Liam, whose expression was blank. Dmitri stood behind with her arms folded across her chest and standing beside her, leaning against one of his beefy cronies, was Draco Malfoy.

"Are you worried about the Greens beating you again?" sneered Adrian.

"Depends on what you mean," said Liam, his mouth curled into a smug smile, "points or _bruises?"_

"You're one to talk, traitor," jeered Dmitri. "Noble fall you had during your first run with the Reds ... would've been better for us if you froze."

Adrian and Draco nodded whilst Crabbe and Goyle chuckled in agreement. Harry felt a burning anger inside.

"Can't be a traitor when I was never excepted," replied Liam complacently.

Harry wanted to applaud to that. Despite the Slytherin's insults, Liam had a simple comeback every time.

"Don't forget your place, Clark!" said Adrian, who stepped so close to Liam their noses could have touched. "You were one of us, once. This rivalry wouldn't have existed if you weren't."

"What?" Harry blurted. _What was he talking about?_ Surely Adrian McElroy didn't take the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry serious.

"I'm surprised, Clark. I thought you would have told him everything," said Adrian, looking at Harry. "Better that way, I guess."

"What are you doing here, anyway?" asked Liam, gritting his teeth.

"Who, us?" asked Draco, rubbing his arm – the same arm Buckbeak had scratched. "We thought it would be a bit of fun to check up on those two oafs down near the Forbidden Forest. I don't think I've ever seen something quite as pathetic ... blubbering about it like he's got no life, that Hagrid."

Liam broke past Adrian and Ron and Harry followed tightly behind as they stomped their way to Draco, but Hermione was already in front of them.

 _SMACK!_

Liam stumbled back into Harry and Ron. Hermione slapped Malfoy across the face with so much strength that it sent him blundering back into Crabbe and Goyle, Dmitri and Adrian fleeting to his side.

"You maniac!" upbraided Dmitri.

"Don't you _dare_ call Hagrid pathetic – you – you foul, evil, loathsome little cockroach!" spat Hermione. She swung her hand back again but Liam caught it.

"Hermione –" she spun around with her hand aimed at him and he let go. "Remember that time I said I'd like to see you try hit me ... yeah, I take that back ..."

Then she turned and started fumbling for something – her wand. Suddenly it was in her hand and it was pointed at Malfoy. The whole group staggered back, Malfoy tripping back into Crabbe.

"C'mon!" stammered Adrian, pulling Malfoy by the sleeve. In a close, fumbling pack they all ran off to the castle.

" _Hermione!_ _"_ Ron said again, sounding both stunned and impressed.

"Can I just say I have a whole new impression of you ..." said Liam.

Hermione spun around to face them, but she was looking only at Liam and Harry.

"You _better_ beat them!" Hermione cried, furiously wagging her finger at Liam – who seemed to think that it would spontaneously muster enough power to punch him. "You better beat them! I can't stand it if they win! You show them who's boss."

"And I will – just – Feud of the Greens – a little overwhelming at times –" faltered Liam.

"Feud of the what?" Harry asked.

"Feud of the Greens," said Tessa. "Feud between Liam and the whole Slytherin house."

"What? Why?" asked Harry.

"Traitor, as you heard," said Tessa. "The best Ayers player in Hogwarts history since 1970 and he moved to Gryffindor. You could imagine how Slytherin reacted."

"Ever since, they've been fixated on showing me who's boss," said Liam, stepping away from Hermione. "Last year they showed just how much they were willing to pay just to _'show me my place'_... I have a feeling that as long as McElroy's in the team, I'll never hear the end of it. I can only blame one man for this feud – unfortunately it would also mean I would need to thank him because he's also the reason I was able to change houses in the first place ..."

Harry knew who this man was and, once again, wondered just what made him such a bad guy. However, before he could ask Liam what had happened between him and Ronan Droge, his cousin began walking back to the castle.

"Come on, we're late for Charms." He didn't spare another look back nor check to see if they were even following after.

Liam walked in long strides, but he was still faster than them. They hurried up the marble staircase towards the Charms classroom.

"You're late, boys," said Sunderland upon their arrival.

"Come along, quickly," said Flitwick, "wands out, we're experimenting with Cheering Charms today, we've already divided into pairs –"

Harry was grabbed and pulled aside by Liam.

"Fine, I'll just have to go with – hey, where did they go?" asked Ron.

"Who?" asked Harry.

"Hermione and Tessa."

Harry looked around. Hermione and Tessa hadn't entered the classroom, yet Harry knew both of them had been right next to him when he had opened the door.

"Come on! Come on! In a three, then!" Flitwick scolded them, placing Ron with Harry and Liam.

As he waddled off Harry said, "Maybe they've gone to the bathroom or something."

But neither of them came.

"Hermione could have done with a Cheering Charm herself," said Ron as they left for lunch. He was grinning broadly – the Cheering Charm left them with a profound feeling of contentment. It came to a relief to Harry; his cousin was groggy all lesson until they managed to perfect the Cheering Charm. Liam was left with a dazed expression and a large, wide smile.

"They're bound to turn up," said Liam. "Even they aren't immune to hunger."

That left Harry giggling. He didn't know why but that sounded funny.

Neither Tessa nor Hermione turned up for lunch either, and after they had finished their lovely course of the day, they began to get worried.

"What if Malfoy did something to them?" asked Ron. "This whole 'Feud of the Greens' doesn't extend to friends, does it?"

"This is the second year I've ever had to deal with it, I don't know what they're willing to do," said Liam. _"Flibbertigibbert!"_ he said to the Fat Lady, and the door swung open.

"Hermione? Tess?" Ron called.

Harry looked up. Sprawled across the tables lay Hermione and Tessa, both fast asleep on the very padding of parchment and books. Ron made their way to them and shook them awake.

"What –"

"– happened –"

"W – which lesson do we have now –"

"Did we miss anything –"

"We've got Divination next," said Harry.

"And you haven't missed anything but Charms," said Liam.

"Oh no –" said Hermione and Tessa in unison. And the two turned to face each other. "We forgot about Charms!"

"I don't believe it –" said Tessa.

"– was Flitwick and Sunderland angry with us –"

"– what did we do in the lesson –"

"– how could we lose track of time –"

"Can you two calm down?" asked Liam. "One lesson isn't enough to go barmy over."

"I reckon you're cracking up. You're trying to do too much," said Ron.

"No we're not –" blurted Hermione.

"– we just made a mistake –"

"– we're perfectly fine –"

"– and _not_ going barmy –"

"– we'd better go speak with Flitwick and Sunderland –"

"– and we'd better do it now before Divinations –"

"– we'll see you later –"

"– do tell Trelawney where we are if we're a little late –"

They pushed past them and went through the door.

"If they speak like that forever _I'm_ going to go barmy," said Liam.

"Good day to you all!" came Trelawney's voice as they arrived at Divinations twenty minutes later. The three of them were huddled around the same rickety table as always with a crystal ball fixed to the middle.

"Being here taints the definition of 'good,'" jested Liam under his breath.

There was a snicker from behind them, and when they looked Harry was surprised to see Hermione had laughed at Liam's joke. The two of them may have set aside their differences but Harry had never thought Hermione would find his humour entertaining. Perhaps she was just agreeing because it was quite evident that she and Tessa had found Divinations as useless as they did.

"We're beginning the crystal ball earlier than I had initially planned to because the Fates have warned me we'll be doing something with the Orb in the examination," said Trelawney.

Hermione snorted and Tessa rolled her eyes.

"Of course 'the Fates have informed her' ..." said Tessa.

"She doesn't need a prediction to determine who sets the exam!" said Hermione.

Liam, Ron and Harry choked back laughs. Neither Hermione nor Tessa seemed to bother to keep their voices down.

"Crystal gazing is a particularly refined art ..."

"And thus begins the terribly boring background of the things we don't even bother to learn," remarked Liam, who found it a little more decent to keep his voice down.

Harry and Ron laughed and silently clapped Liam's hand as he held it out. He had a contented smile on, which nearly wiped off once he heard Hermione laughing with them. It appeared he too found it odd that Hermione would fine his humour amusing.

"– so as to clear the Inner Eye and the superconscious. Perhaps, if we are lucky, some of you will See before the end of the class," said Trelawney.

"I dunno what we're supposed to do but I guess staring into the crystal ball will appear as though we know what we're doing," said Liam.

After some time looking into the misty depths of the crystal ball, Harry, who felt rather stupid within the whole quarter-hour of staring, had asked, "Seen anything yet."

"A misty pool of boring," muttered Ron.

"Myself ... banging my head for entertainment," said Liam, who had since focused his attention more on a chip in the table.

"We could be using this time to practice the Cheering Charm," said Tessa.

"I know," said Hermione. "Flitwick and Sunderland hinted that it might be in the exams."

"This is such a waste of time."

"We could be using this more productively –"

"Would anyone like assistance?" asked Professor Trelawney.

"Would we need any?" asked Ron. "It's obvious that this shows there's going to be a lot of fog tonight."

Harry, Liam, Hermione and Tessa burst out laughing.

"Now, really!" said Professor Trelawney as everyone's heads turned in their direction. Parvati and Lavender were looking scandalised. "You are disturbing the clairvoyant vibrations!"

Liam, laughter still bubbling in his face, had narrowed his eyebrows and said, "Now stop, Ronald, you're interrupting Trelawney's futuristic vibes –" and he broke off into a fit of loud laughs, Ron, Harry, Hermione and Tessa joining. She approached their table towering over Liam and peered into their crystal ball. Harry felt his heart sinking. He was sure he knew what was coming –

"There's something in there!" Professor Trelawney whispered. "Oh dear, plainer and clearer than ever – the Gri–"

"Oh, please do stop with this Grim nonsense!" chided Hermione.

"My dear, I do not find your tone acceptable," said Professor Trelawney.

"She wasn't trying to make it acceptable," said Tessa.

"I am sorry to say that from the moment you two have arrived in this class it has been apparent that you do not have what the noble art of Divination requires. Indeed, I don't remember ever meeting a student whose mind was so hopelessly mundane."

Harry hadn't expected what came next. Hermione and Tessa stood, in unison, collected their things, crammed them into the bags and swung it over their shoulders.

"Fine –" said Hermione.

"– surely _hopelessly mundane_ minds shouldn't even bother coming here, anyway!" said Tessa.

Amazed, the whole class watched as the two of them trooped off to the trapdoor, kicked it open and then was out of sight.

"Well that's something you don't see everyday," said Liam.

It appeared that only Beck, Simon, Seamus and Dean were enjoying themselves over the Easter holidays. The rest of the third years had been working flat-out on their homework; Hermione and Tessa were perhaps busier than even the seventh years. However, the four of them seemed more focussed on putting up banners all around the common room, reading **REDS ARE THE BEST!** and catering to everyone to keep up good spirit for their match against Slytherin. Harry was at least reassured that Dean and Seamus had been doing their homework, but he wasn't too sure about Beck and Simon.

Harry was a little slow to realise that all this festive cheer led to the Feud of the Greens, which Beck Lavery seemed more than happy to elaborate.

"The Slytherin's called him traitor for leaving the team, that's why most of them wished he'd died that night. A little extreme, but those Slytherin's are hungry for power –"

"Died?"

"Ronan Droge," said Beck Lavery. "Liam hasn't told you about him?" Beck looked shocked, and Harry had the bitter image of Adrian McElroy sneering at Liam because he'd kept Harry in the dark about the Feud of the Greens.

"How do you know about Droge?" asked Harry.

"The whole of Hogan knew about him," said Beck. Hogan? Meaning the half of Hogwarts that had been on Liam's side before the world was stuck together. "There's no force on earth that'll take back what Droge did."

"What _did_ he do?"

"The story's not too different from Quirrell's." Harry hadn't realised that Liam had been nearby. He turned to his cousin, who stared at the ground as though the memories were all riddled in the floor. "You told me that Quirrell had been possessed by Lord Voldemort –"

"Careful! The name!" snapped Beck, cringing.

"That Quirrell was willing to do anything to get that Stone, even kill you ..." said Liam. "You told me that Quirrell was a nervous wreck who stuttered all the time and had used that as a way to shake off suspicion. He tried to kill you on countless occasions and finally had the chance to when you went to get the Stone, but he failed."

"What's the matter with that?" asked Harry.

"You speak about it like, ultimately, he was the one who did it ... but he didn't," said Liam. Harry sensed an irate pulse swelling inside him. How would Liam know, he wasn't the one who was nearly thrown off his broom! "Professor Quirrell didn't have control over his own mind, Harry. Lord Voldemort did. Lord Voldemort was the man who infiltrated his thoughts and altered his mind to fixate on getting the Stone and killing you."

"Right, I'm leaving ... you keep using that name," said Beck, and he was off.

"Droge ... he wasn't _possessed_ ..." said Liam, his voice drawling. "As insane as Sirius Black may seem ... Droge was worse. Our stories, they aren't different, Harry. I was told that my mom and dad were running away from Valindor, that they took refuge in a nearby house that they owned. That's where they would've died. My dad was on the lookout and my mom was trying to put me to bed when Valindor knocked the door down."

Liam looked up for a moment. His eyes didn't want to meet with Harry, probably because, he noticed, they were glazed and shiny.

"Glumberry told me that Valindor wanted them to hurt before they would die. He's got a clear image in my mind that he likes to torture the pain out of someone so that they _beg_ for death ... and that's what he tried to do," said Liam. "He figured that the only way to break the Clarks was to take away the one thing they cared about most: me. He pushed my mom out of the way and my dad was left alone to fight. He tried his best but he couldn't –

"My mom jumped out of nowhere and tried to stop him from doing anything, but he was too strong and too angry to tolerate resistance. And on the floor she pleaded, "Please ... he's just a boy, he doesn't deserve it." I don't know how Glumberry knew, but he said he looked at her, saw the tears in her eyes, smiled and tried to kill me. It explains the nightmares I've had ever since I turned eleven. Every time I close my eyes I hear this deafening scream in my head of a woman pleading ... and a green flash. It does enough to wake me up ..."

Harry remembered the Dementors and how when he saw them he would immediately hear his mother screaming and Voldemort trying to make her move out of the way before he got impatient and took her life. He wondered if this is what Liam heard whenever the Dementors were around.

"Glumberry told me that when Valindor failed, his wand burnt out of his hand and it dropped right in front of my father. My father could see that he had been weakened by the blow. He tried grabbing Valindor's wand, but the Dark Lord was still quick enough to snatch it the same time as my father. The two wrestled for it and my mom tried to throw Valindor off by pulling him away but the moment she touched him ... they disappeared."

"Just like that?" asked Harry.

"Just like that," repeated Liam tediously. His eyes were fixed on the floor this time. "Valindor was weak. He couldn't keep them captured in his condition, so he went searching for an accomplice ... by his luck he met the Minister of Magic, Ronan Droge. He didn't need to _possess_ him or convince him. Droge was already up to the idea that the Wizarding community needed cleansing from wizarding "undesirables". He jumped to the task and was happy to think that the only way to "cleanse" the wizarding world was if the Dark Lord was back in power, and the only way of doing that was to kill Liam Clark."

There was a long, drawling silence. Harry was so centred in the conversation that the usual bustle in the common room came as a remote whirr. He knew as much as the fact that Droge intended to kill Liam. It came up once in a conversation and he got the point after hearing everyone say that he was a two-faced monster. But he never knew Droge worked with Lord Valindor.

"Droge was the face of the Ministry ... handsome. People swooned at him more than they ever did with Lockhart. He earned the Order of Merlin, First Class for orchestrating a rescue mission to save a neighbourhood from a local Hairy McBoon attack in some place called TAL ... apparently they're so dangerous Droge can earn an award for it. People thought he was a saint, that he could end all the strife and difficulties the wizarding community went though, they even said he should take Cornel's place but of course he turned it down because Cornel was better for the job.

"The first thing I heard when I walked into the wizarding world was that there was a strong evil coming after me, and that if I didn't do something quick I would die. People were raving on about how I should be sent to Hogan that very instance because they thought the only person to fight away the darkness was Headmaster Fredrick Glumberry. Of course McDonald thought it was a whole load of rubbish and ensured I'd get my requirements before the term started. People also thought that if I had Ronan Droge in my company, this looming "evil" wouldn't dare to come near ... little did people know that _he_ was that looming evil."

"What happened?" asked Harry.

"Droge did what everyone expected him to ... he befriended the Boy Who Lived ... acted like a father figure ..." said Liam. "No one would be my friend. Not the Scorpiostings because the McElroys put in a bad name for me ... Not the Phoenixdans because they didn't want to be caught hanging around with a Scorpiosting ... I didn't even bother with the rest because what was the point. Before Tessa came along, Droge was there for me. He showed me some pretty cool tricks and acted like my father. Then he created the Ayers Tournament saying that it was because I liked playing the sport.

"I was happy about that. I had a friend who would do anything for me. Knowing that made me play better, but I didn't play for Scorpiosting I played for myself ... I was trying to show Phoenixdan that I didn't belong in Scorpiosting ... and then Tess came along and she told me not to worry about this whole thing –" he cast a look to the side where, through a group of rowdy fourth-years, he saw Tessa sitting beside Hermione, frantically writing across a piece of parchment. "Droge got a little impatient with the fact that I spent more time with Tess than him ... I should have known why."

"What did he do about it?" asked Harry. He reckoned he must have done _something_ to stop it.

"Well, apart from blaming Beck's father of smuggling illegal appliances in Wizard Britain, he demoted Winter Williams from his role of Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and replaced him with someone who couldn't give a damn about creatures. When finally he had had enough with this man torturing animals because it was fun, he tried to go up against Droge. Droge discredited Mr Williams so much Cornel got involved, and because this was a serious case, Tess spent a little less time with me than I would have liked."

"Then what happened?"

"Droge put up a pretty good case against Mr Williams. He paid off people to lie about him so that Tessa's dad would lose in the end. And he lost quite a lot. Droge cost him his job, he was sent home and Tess left for a week. Of course, that was the week before the Ayers Final. Droge came to it and before the match began Wolverhampton came to me and told me that he knew my parents were alive and where they were being kept. Droge made me suspect Wolverhampton was behind their whole disappearance, and I believed him because Wolverhampton didn't look like he could be trusted. But Wolverhampton led me to my parents ..."

There was a lost look in Liam's eyes. Harry suspected he must have seen something terrible ... something that must have scarred him forever.

"Wolverhampton warned me that it wasn't something an eleven-year-old should be seeing ... he was right ... in some antechamber within Hogan they were knocked out, unconscious. Dad's face was swollen and bruised ... he was covered in blood – mom's blood ... she lay on him limply ... her hair was dripping blood ... I wouldn't have told the difference because it's her natural hair colour but ... if I looked at them now I would never say that the two people in that antechamber where my parents. It shook me and Wolverhampton told me Droge did it ... I didn't believe him ... he said it didn't matter, that I should return to the match and by the time I won he would be back with his parents with at least enough energy to tell the truth ..."

Liam shut his eyes.

"They had the energy, all right, but they couldn't remember who their captor was. They could only recall that they had been tortured with spells, jinxes ... even knives ... they looked so much like me, Harry, and yet the actions of one man had made them unrecognisable ... Wolverhampton put the blame on Droge and everyone denied it. Droge had told me that I shouldn't listen to him and that I should be awarded my gift – he promised a special gift to the most valued player in the team. I turned the gift down before he could name it and instead asked Glumberry if I could swap houses instead. They began to argue because the Hat's choice is final, but I argued that the Minister's permission is a stronger will than the Hat's decision. I said Droge had the power to take me out of the school if he wanted to, so shouldn't that give me the right to trade this gift for a change in place."

Liam started shaking his head.

"'No' he said ... Droge, I mean ... 'Surely you would want this gift' ... I told him, no I'd like to change places ... I realised then that the only reason the Phoenixdans weren't paying any attention to me was because of the rivalry between them and Scorpiosting. If I'd changed I'd get friends and people who wouldn't call me names ... but there was this insane look in his eyes, the same one he had on when he didn't like the fact that Tess and I were spending time together ... and he hexed my shoes so that I wouldn't fly away, and ended off chasing after me with curses. My parents got in the way of it but they weren't strong enough to fight."

Harry had a vague idea of what that felt like. Liam was chased by a mad man who had a brooding hatred within him for ten years. If it was for Liam or the fact that he lived among Muggles and Muggleborns, Harry didn't know, but to have that strong desire to kill off every living non-magical human and wizardkind born to them put into every curse he threw at that innocent eleven-year-old boy must have been daunting.

"Droge cornered me and, in front of everyone, held a knife to my throat. He taunted my parents and told us everything. He told us that he didn't care about Muggles and Muggleborns, he wanted the entire race wiped ... he told us that he was loyal to only one cause and that was to spill my blood ..." Liam looked up at Harry, and this time he looked at him, eye-to-eye. "Luckily for me, those magic police officers – the _Aurors –_ they came and swept him away, but he wasn't easy. He said he was either going to kill for the Dark Lord or die for him ... and with that he held the knife to his own throat – I didn't see anything, mum had pulled me away from the scene – Beck and Simon say Sunderland cast some type of spell to shield the scene from their eyes but when the spell died down we saw the Aurors running off with a trail of blood ... wasn't the prettiest sight to see but something Droge would have liked, I guess."

Liam broke off. He buried his face in his hands and then ran his fingers through his hair.

"That feeling, Harry, that you get when you realise your mom, the very same woman you hadn't seen in ten years, has the same smile and eyes as you do ... she looked sick, thin and her head oozed with blood but I could still tell that the woman who faced me that night had been my mother ..." said Liam.

Harry felt a pang of pain. He was sad for his cousin because he had to go through all that, but also at the fact that he would never be able to see his mom in that way. His mom was gone and she was never coming back, not even long enough for Harry to make out the resemblance between him and her. They say he had his mother's eyes, how could he know that for sure?

"I couldn't see through much on dad's face but I could tell, from all the pictures I've seen of him, he was Thomas Clark," said Liam. Again, he ran his fingers through his hair. "Anyway ... I've shared too much of my sad story ... I need to finish my Potions essay."

Harry watched his cousin lumber off. Liam didn't need those thoughts in his mind, he was so busy already. Apart from his homework, he'd been helping Hermione and Tessa with the appeal because they didn't seem free enough to do it. Ron was helping too, but he and Liam weren't exactly seeing eye-to-eye lately. Liam had to cram this all with Ayers practice, which were tiring in itself, and Harry began to think that his sickness may have been affecting him again, despite the daily breakfast dosages.

Harry wasn't a hundred-percent well, either. He wasn't as busy as Liam but he could somewhat relate. Harry, too, juggled between homework and his sporty curriculum, and was growing rather tired of Wood's plan for their upcoming match.

"You can only catch the Snitch if we're fifty points ahead," said Wood. "Fifty points ahead, Potter!"

"I get it, Wood!"

Wood repeated that more than Harry liked in every one of the five-day practices. He nagged more often than so, and Harry was prepared to compare him with Dmitri McElroy.

The nerves had kicked in the morning of the match, and Harry woke up way too early for even the sun.

He couldn't predict the outcome of the match but Harry began to worry if this Feud of the Greens really did extend to Liam's family and friends. He thought of the many different ways the Slytherin team, and possibly their house – if this feud was between him and the entire Slytherin house – would sabotage their game in order to throw Harry so off guard that he would lose the match and let down perhaps every Gryffindor in the school, Wood (whose days were limited at Hogwarts), Hermione (who entrusted him and Liam to show them who was better), Hagrid and Dreagon (who would have both like to see Malfoy suffering their loss), and his aunt and uncle, who he was hoping would be proud of him after the match.

He couldn't really shake off the stress enough to fall back asleep, so he instead got up, fastened his gear on along with the Quidditch uniform, seized his Firebolt and headed down to the Quidditch pitch. He wasn't supposed to be out in the crust of the morning but he supposed no one would really mind considering it had been the last match of the Quidditch and Ayers season. McGonagall and McDonald would have surpassed the fact that Harry had been out practicing because they were fostering a Gryffindor win since he got his Firebolt back.

All he wanted was a few spins around the stadium to verify that his broomstick hadn't suddenly gone faulty. He made sure to keep his broom close to him because this feud may have driven the Slytherins to tinker his Firebolt to perhaps go haywire in the middle of the match, forgive him for being cautious.

As he walked into the stadium, Harry was shocked to see Liam there. In a speeding blur, his cousin jetted around every tiered seat with such speed that Harry could feel the impact when he zoomed past. Suddenly he slowed and stopped in front of Harry, already geared-up .

"What're you doing here?" asked Liam, panting. How could someone pant from a sport where your shoes did all the work? Maybe kicking off the air for momentum required much more energy than first thought.

"Probably the same reason you're here. Prepping for today's match," said Harry.

"Everywhere but here feels like a danger zone for the Feud of the Greens ... even our common room feels like I'm about to be jumped by Slytherins," said Liam, fiddling with his elbow pad.

"What did they do last time?"

"Oh ... tied my Aces's wings together so I wouldn't be able to fly ... May have abducted Clogg and hung him up in the dugouts ... Collectively confused Woolly with some trippy ball skills ... sabotaged Simon by making him eat this toffee to make his tongue swell up ... Nothing _too_ terrible, at least," said Liam. "But it cost us a hell of a lot. We were trailing after one-thousand and fifty –"

"One-thousand and fifty?"

"Points aren't really hard to get in Ayers," said Liam. "If you keep scoring a Medio with the Runner you're bound to get a thousand on a good day. You keep scoring a hundred, right? That's ten goals through the Medio with the Runner. It's a special kind of tactic Ayers teams use, they only throw around the Runner in order to get more goals considering the Runner earns more points than the Base does. However, an Ayers match cannot go on if the Base isn't in the air, so a team member who doesn't have the Runner or are beating away Batters are keeping the Base up ... we don't use that, though, it's a pathetic play that only the Whisking Woodpeckers would manage to play."

Harry had realised the sky had now been a rich light purple with wispy clouds swept across it. The sun wasn't out but he could see a bright orange gleam radiating from behind the stadium.

"It's getting bright," said Liam. "Wanna take a little spin before we head back?"

"Yeah, sure."

They left ten minutes later. They spent a little less time than Harry wanted but he surely didn't want to be caught by a teacher and Liam had caught a glimpse of Professor Bud blundering about the Green Houses.

The grounds were still very quiet and there was barely any wind. Harry hoped that meant fine conditions for their match with Slytherin. The last thing Harry wanted was a roaring storm, and he had the absurd idea that the Slytherins might have been able to control the weather to sabotage them as another one of their tricks in the Feud.

He shook the thought off and nearly laughed aloud. The Slytherins couldn't control the weather. He did shake his head – and then his eyes caught something. Somewhere far ahead of them, in a dark, shadowy patch of land, some kind of animal roamed the grounds.

Harry nearly jumped. For a moment he thought the animal had been the Grim coming after him, but as he looked he knew it couldn't have been. It was certainly smaller than he would have perceived a great black dog, and it wasn't black at all. It was actually orange ... it was Crookshanks.

"Harry, what's up?" asked Liam, who stood just a couple of feet ahead of him with his eyebrows raised.

"Crookshanks –" he pointed in the direction of the orange cat, but it had disappeared from sight.

"Crookshanks?" Liam spun around in the direction in which Harry pointed. "There's nothing there, Harry."

Harry blinked his eyes. Had this Feud effected him so much that he fantasised orange cats as his predator?

"Are you okay, Harry?" asked Liam.

"Fine," said Harry, and he began treading up the hill with Liam. He knew he must have thought of Crookshanks being there, but his eyes never left the area in which he had been. He had a feeling that his eyes weren't deceiving him.

If Crookshanks was there, then he would have been under the shadow of a large tree. Harry's eyes were still glued on it but couldn't see why his gut was telling him that there was something there.

"Harry, come on! There's nothing there!" said Liam, who kept walking. Harry followed after, this time he didn't look back.

When they reached the castle, Harry looked back again and saw it – Crookshanks was there, purring beside a large, shaggy black dog.

"Liam," called Harry. He reached out for his cousin but he was out of reach. "Liam!" he turned his head away. _"Liam!"_

"What, Harry –"

He grabbed ahold of his cousin and dragged him to see Crookshanks and the black dog, but they hadn't been there.

"What am I looking at?" asked Liam.

"But –"

"I think you need some breakfast ... that Pumpkin Juice ought to wash out those Feud of the Green nerves," said Liam, taking Harry into the castle.

Harry certainly felt better when the entered the Great Hall for breakfast. The whole of Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw broke into applause, and the Slytherins had been hissing – some of them, Harry saw, were actually snickering.

Harry found a seat with Liam and didn't have enough time to even settle before Wood came by.

"There you are, Potter, I've been looking for you all morning," said Wood. "Better eat fast, we're going to head up to the stadium just now to practice."

And when Wood was off, he heard, "Good luck, Harry!" coming from the Ravenclaw table. It was Cho Chang; Harry felt himself blushing.

"Why're we all jittery, the Slytherins haven't done anything, have they?" Liam asked Beck as he bit into a slice of toast. Harry saw that he, Simon, Seamus and Dean had all been sceptical.

"No ..."

"Then why the glum faces?" said Liam. "It's a bright sunny day ... they haven't dared you into eating toffee again, Simon?"

"No," answered Simon.

"Then what –"

"Slytherin hasn't _done_ anything, yet," Dean finally piped. "Rumour has it Martin found Murray Becker fiddling about the Gryffindor dugouts last night –"

"As in Martin Alexander ... Gryffindor Fielder?" asked Liam.

"Yup," said Beck. "But nobody knows if it's true. Not only that, the Weasley twins tossed out some bloke, Nott, from sitting around our table just now. Ever since, those Slytherins haven't stop laughing yet."

"What do they want?" asked Liam.

"We don't know," said Seamus. "We've been watching them this entire time, seeing if anyone of them will slip up a hint or something, but nothing."

"Well, I don't care what they do," said Liam. "I'm just going to enjoy some pancakes before I have to go –"

"Don't!"

Jimmy Clogg grabbed his hand, and then suddenly someone on their left threw up.

"What the –"

"Slytherins spiked the pancakes with a little extra something," said Clogg. "Something that would make my athletes sick! Don't eat the pancakes!" he called to everyone else.

Percy had been warding off the sick student.

"Welcome to the Feud of the Greens, Cloggy!" announced a boy in the Slytherin house. "You're in our territory now."

"Why don't we be decent, Becker! Play a fair match this time!" yelled Clogg back.

" _This_ is what they do?" asked Harry.

"I was expecting something worse," said Liam, and he looked away. Harry followed his gaze. He was looking at the Slytherin table and his eyes immediately caught on Adrian McElroy who, along with the rest of the Slytherin house, bore a wide grin.

"I'm gonna beat them this time!" Liam said suddenly.

"That's the spirit! Come on, we better be off," said Clogg. He gestured for the rest of the Ayers team to stand, and Wood had done the same with Quidditch.

They were about to leave the hall when –

"Clark!" For some reason, the hall became quiet, and everyone's attention was fixed on Liam and Breeanne Shacklebolt, who had raced up to the door to stop him. The Ravenclaw girl tossed Liam a scrunched up peace of parchment which he opened and scanned. "Don't think I didn't know what you meant when we played ... now it's my turn to challenge you."

"Five hundred margin," scoffed Liam, and he turned to the Slytherins. "Yeah, I think I could do five goals through the Medio. Who knows, I might even double the score ... maybe do what they did to us last year."

"Don't get too ahead of yourself ... you lost to us, remember?"

"And you lost to them –" Liam pointed at the Quidditch team, "– remember?"

"Touché, Clark," said Shacklebolt. "Good luck."

Liam smiled, then turned and they kept walking off.

"How'd you get her to talk to you like that?" asked Simon along the way.

"What d'you mean?" asked Liam.

"She's _Breeanne Shacklebolt ..._ no one would _dare_ challenge her," said Simon. "Let alone talk to her."

"Sounds like I took on a challenge ... and if there's one thing I was taught it was not to limit my challenges."

Harry never thought that the euphoria of beating Slytherin would ever subside. Malfoy looked the most sour of all in his house and Harry kept getting congratulated when he caught the Snitch after Gryffindor led ninety-ten. But as Liam and the Ayers team flew onto the pitch, there was something about the Slytherin team that got Harry ... something maniacal.

And he didn't have to wait long to see just what they were planning to do. Three minutes into the match, one of the Slytherin Ayers team members shouldered one of the Gryffindor Fielders in the face to dispossess him from the Base.

"UNFAIR!" bellowed Lee Jordan. "KEEP YOUR EYES PEELED, REF! DID YOU EVEN SEE WHAT HE DID!"

The Slytherin players weaved their way through player after player, passing as though to taunt the Gryffindors and easily avoiding Batters and Beaters. The Gryffindors moaned as, by the end of the third minute, the Slytherins tricked the Keeper, Woolly, in the direction they were going to score.

"That shouldn't count, ref! Penalise Slytherin for that foul against Martin!" roared Lee, but Madam Hooch, who was hovering in the air on her broomstick, just looked at him and shook her head. "Oh come on!" he made a noise that made Professor McGonagall and McDonald eye him. "Slytherin lead fifty points to nil."

Harry gave up on looking at the rest of the team and instead kept his eyes peeled on his cousin, who was wheeling around teammates and Slytherin Batters in hope the running Runner would suddenly pop out of nowhere.

"Oh come on –" yelled Lee. Harry saw him pointing in the direction of the Base. "Did you not just see that! That's a clear foul!"

The whistle blew and Madam Hooch was glaring at the Slytherin Keeper.

"That's a dirty play, Becker!" she yelled. "May I remind you that you're not allowed to purposely distract the referee! Free throw for Gryffindor!"

"Thank you!" called Lee Jordan. "Jimmy Clogg up for the free throw, and let me just say it is much within range ... SCORES ... never doubted you, Cloggy! Score reads fifty-fifty – and there you go, Clark's got the Runner ... he's closing in on Murray Becker – always got a knack of scoring, that Clark. Gryffindor lead one-fifty to fifty."

The Runner had sped away, bouncing between the seats. Some of the students watching hit it away and back into the pitch and the moment it was, Liam bolted for it.

"Clark's off for the Runner whilst Faulkner shows off with the Base – that's a nice pass to Clogg – to Alex – back to Clogg – Murray Becker managed to save that shot – Clark seems to have much more luck, he's racing away with the Runner in hand – wonderful skill around Hammond – and there he goes toward Becker – Adrian McElroy after him but Clark's leaving him in the dust with his Aces – Clark's closing in, Gryffindor waiting for their two hundred and fifty and – FOUL! REF!"

Harry had to agree with that. As Liam was about to shoot the Runner, a Beater came hurtling out of nowhere and knocked Liam's arm. Not only that but the Batter who seemed to have hit it knocked him off track.

"COME ON REF!"

Madam Hooch shook her head.

"DIRTY, CHEATING SCUM!"

"Jordan, we're not going to have a repeat of the Quidditch match!" said Professor McGonagall.

"But professor, that's a foul!" spat Lee.

"Continue with the commentary, Jordan!"

"McElroy's got the Runner, and Clark's still dazed at what happened," said Lee. Harry saw Liam was blinking and shaking his head clear. His cousin was still woozy when he shot off after Adrian. "Clark's coming after – too late – one-fifty to one-fifty – scratch that, one-fifty to two hundred – Slytherin scores a Medio with the Base."

Gryffindor grabbed the lead after forty minutes had gone, but the Slytherins fought for it and by the eightieth minute, they lead by two hundred points. There was only ten minutes left of the match and Liam looked utterly winded from the amounts of unseen fouls he had to endure. Harry could see the the Feud of the Greens was implemented more in the game than pre-match antics. Almost every player in the Slytherin team had a go at Liam and it prevented him from scoring. The only person in the Slytherin team who hadn't yet tackled Liam was Adrian McElroy, but he had a look on his face that said it was soon to come.

At this stage he couldn't keep up to Breeanne's challenge. Gryffindor was supposed to win the match with a five hundred point margin. At this rate, with less than ten minutes to go and the Slytherins leading seven hundred to five hundred, they could only hope for a hundred point lead.

Mr and Mrs Clark were there. Harry saw them sitting beside Professors McDonald and McGonagall. There weren't really focussed in the first few minutes of the match – which only made Harry wonder if they even saw him catch the Snitch – but after hearing their son's name countless of times associated with the word 'foul' they seemed to always keep their eyes on him (and were just as furious as Lee Jordan when they saw him getting fouled).

"Oh, look at this – scores! Liam Clark has pulled one back for Gryffindor – and he's off for the Runner again – Clogg, Faulkner and Alex, on the other hand, have the Base and they're up to the goals – Clogg – scores – here's Clark, he's in a tight position – SCORES! Gryffindor lead by fifty!"

The Gryffindors roared.

"Clark's off for the Runner and McElroy just behind – Clark's in possession of the Runner and ... he makes a fool out of McElroy with that wonderful overhead pass to Clogg – Clogg passes it back – Clark's near goals and – no! Ref!"

The whistle blew.

"Free throw! Clark in position!" called Madam Hooch.

Liam flew to the position in which he was knocked by yet another Beater. The Batter in which hit it scowled and Madam Hooch as she went to consult him.

"Clark plays it and – scores!" said Lee. "Gryffindor eight hundred and fifty, Slytherin seven hundred! Clark's got the Runner and – DID YOU SEE THAT, REF!"

Madam Hooch did not. She was still busy consulting the very angry Batter. Adrian McElroy finally had his chance at Liam. While he had the Runner in hand, Adrian, instead of trying to get the Runner from him, flew right into Liam and took the ball away.

"McElroy's shot – saved by Woolly!"

McElroy seemed frustrated at the fact that he messed up his shot after all that trouble of tackling Liam.

"A minute left! All Gryffindor has to do is maintain their lead!" said Lee. "Gordon's got the Base and he's closing in on the Medio for Slytherin – no, he's going for the Minnie –"

Woolly catered off after the player going for the Minnie, and like everyone else, she didn't seem to see McElroy closing in on the Medio. Harry was relieved that he wasn't the only one. Liam dashed off after him but he didn't stop to prevent McElroy from scoring, he went on to the goals. By the time McElroy shot, Liam caught the ball, but there was another Batter coming in his direction.

"Clark saves the ball but – hey!"

The Runner fumbled out of his hands and he plummeted to the ground. The Batter hit one of his shoes. Harry saw his cousin trying to kick off the air but the battered wings on his flying Aces weren't strong enough. Liam barely managed to cushion his fall. He skidded across the ground into a mound created by his own body.

"REF!"

Harry was relieved that his cousin was okay. He looked up at Adrian as he stood, fixed his wings and then shot off. The two of them chased after the Runner as it ran across the stadium. They kept competing for the lead; Adrian attempted elbowing Liam off track. Liam wheeled around him and caught the Runner. The two then met at the middle of the pitch, Adrian in the way of his own goals, blocking Liam from securing Gryffindor a two hundred and fifty lead.

They hovered over the ground just staring at each other, and then – Adrian fell, right out of the sky. The Slytherins gasped, Dmitri McElroy looked like she was about to jump after him. The Gryffindors began to yell for Liam to go ahead and take the shot.

"Clark, what are you doing?" asked Lee Jordan.

Harry saw Adrian's fall stop abruptly before he hit the ground, and then looked up at his own cousin. He looked woozy again, and his hand found his head as he shook it. Liam looked up at the goals one last time before the Runner dropped from his hands and he followed after.


	17. The Scorpion Sting

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The Scorpion Sting

Liam never thought he would ever find it painful to look at the light, but as he woke, the bright glow that filled the Hospital Wing seared his eyes and intensified his aching head. He sat up instead and rubbed his forehead. He could not tell if it was his head that was sore or his scar.

"Liam!" someone called.

He attempted to open his eyes once more but the light attacked him again. He managed to catch a glimpse of a number of figures bustling toward him, but he could not see whom exactly. A hand clamped his shoulder; the abrupt movement made him sway, which only added to the pain in his head.

"Liam, are you okay?" asked another voice.

"Lights ..." mumbled Liam, and he made a hand gesture.

Suddenly the sound of collapsing shutters came and Liam could no longer see a reddish gleam through the shade of his eyelids. Carefully, he opened his eyes and blinked. In a now dark Hospital Wing, his parents knelt on either side of him, both with an arm apiece, with Harry, Ron, Hermione and Tessa beside them.

"Liam, dear, are you okay?" his mother asked.

"No – yeah – I'm fine ... have a headache, though," said Liam, holding his head in his hand. Before he said anything else, he looked around him.

He was not the only one in the Hospital Wing. Nearly all the bedspreads had been occupied with a student. The matrons, Madam Pomfrey and Madam Madison, were scuttling along the floor, trying to tend to each and every one of them. Somewhere along the way, they passed Adrian McElroy, whose sister was in tears beside him. Seeing his rival hopeless in bed triggered something in his head.

"The match – what happened?" asked Liam.

"Lack of blood flow," said Mr Clark. "You and McElroy. Your sickness clotted your blood to strangulate flow, and because you needed more energy to fly in the match, you two fainted."

The memory came back like a hot iron rod prying into his mind. He caught the Runner and McElroy blocked his way to the Scorpiosting goals ... and then his vision blurred ... the dizziness hit him and before he knew it the Runner left his hands and he was falling through the sky.

However, that would not explain the rest of the students. They were not all Ayers players.

"And what about –"

He caught his breath, examining his parents carefully. Both of them looked extremely tired, with bagged eyes and pale faces. His mother actually looked like a basset hound. Were they _that_ worried? Did they think that he would die as he lay unconscious in the Hospital Wing?

"What, the rest of the students?" asked Mr Clark. He sighed. "You've been out for three weeks. Within that period this 'Scorpomorbus' progressively exacerbated. It got so out of control that we could not do anything about it. We've been working on potions that could at least subside the pain temporarily but ... there's just so much students struggling with so many painful symptoms ..."

"You may have been out for three weeks, but Adrian's been out for one so you can imagine how worried we were that you hadn't woken yet ..." said his mother.

"Adrian stayed in the Hospital Wing for two weeks extra?" asked Liam.

"You know the McElroys ... being a drama queen runs in the family," said Mr Clark with a nervous laugh.

"B-but ..." stammered Liam, "the exams ..."

"Called off," said Mrs Clark. Liam looked at Hermione and Tessa, both of whom he would have thought were upset about yet another year of no exams, but they had an unreadable expression on, one that made him think they may have been relieved about it. "The just of the school's sick, no one's going to be able to concentrate with it."

"They can't do that, can they?" asked Liam. "The NEWT students ..."

"They'll be writing theirs during the term holiday a–" Mr Clark stopped himself. Liam could only think of why, he would have said _assuming the whole school doesn't die before then ..._ "The rest of the school will have to bear with not doing any examinations."

That wasn't bad news, but the fact that the only reason they wouldn't be examined this year was that students were too ill to do them bothered Liam. Eventually everyone will die from this, and nobody had any other idea to save them apart from giving up a Muggleborn student. Before this, Liam did not believe that this sickness could not be cured. He refused to think that such a disease could infect a school. Hundreds of innocent lives put at the peril of something incurable … that was rubbish and incredibly rare.

But now in this position, he recalled the pain he endured before his parents came. This sickness was real and he could barely do anything. He became tired of it. When his parents came, he felt that whatever they put in their breakfast everyday granted him days of bliss. He could manage most things now without moaning, groaning and aching with pain. He could focus on doing his homework and helping Hagrid with Buckbeak's appeal ...

 _Buckbeak's appeal!_

As though reading his mind, Hermione had said, "Buckbeak's appeal's tomorrow. Thought you should know."

Liam shut his eyes. The many things he had said he would do ... he never got the opportunity to do them. He was too fixed on his homework that it left little space for him to do any research for the appeal. He spent ten to twenty minutes on it every night and could not find anything. He had later told himself to approach his parents about the matter, regardless to what they were doing, after their match against Slytherin ... but it seemed as though Scorpiosting's sickness couldn't care less.

Liam sighed. "I should have helped –"

"What could you do, Liam?" asked Tessa. "You were stuck here ... unconscious."

"Yeah, try doing anything when you're senseless –"

" _Ron!"_ hissed Hermione.

"Did you ask them?" asked Liam, pointing at his parents, but he did not give them an opportunity to answer. "Did you help with the appeal?" he asked his parents.

Neither of his parents answered immediately.

"We tried," said his mother. "But, like everything else, no luck."

"What – how – never mind –" he fumbled about in his bed and then tore off the blankets.

"What are you doing?" questioned his mother.

"There's still one more day until the appeal. We can still do something about it," said Liam.

"Liam, you just woke up from a _coma,"_ said his mother. "By the looks of it, it appears you woke with a headache –"

"Which is gone, mum," said Liam.

"Liam, listen to your mother," said Mr Clark. "You can't go about now, not after just waking up. You need a bit of rest. Trust me, you'll feel much better after a little nap –"

"I'll feel better when that idiot Malfoy doesn't win!" said Liam. "That big old cry baby has almost _ruined_ Hagrid's life and I have a feeling he won't stop at that! Hagrid and Dreagon care about that Hippogriff and frankly, so do I and because of him, because Malfoy went off to daddy, poor Buckbeak will be killed! You can't tell me to rest at the stake of an innocent life."

His parents exchanged looks. Liam felt good about that, it probably did the deal.

"On one condition," said his mother. "It's a Thursday, which means you still have school. What lesson do you have after lunch?" she asked Hermione and Tessa.

"Charms and Divination," Hermione answered.

"Right, you eat lunch and you go to your last two subjects. After that, you can tear your eyes out trying to find a way to help Buckbeak," said Mrs Clark. "Agreed?"

"Fine."

"And _eat,_ Liam," added his mother. "Actually put some food on your plate and eat it ... you kind of need something in that stomach of yours."

"Yes, mum."

He ate but could barely register what he was doing. He was restless and uneasy. Liam knew he was comatose for all of these three weeks but he felt that he should have put more work into this appeal. He took on a responsibility and he failed to fulfil it.

"Liam, you okay?" asked Harry.

"Fine," he said.

"Liam, you couldn't have done anything," said Hermione.

"It's not that ... I just ... I could've done _more_ ," he told them.

"You've done enough," said Hermione. "If anything you've done more than all of us. And you've had to put up with this sickness and all ... it can't have been easy ..."

"I still could have done more," mumbled Liam. He was getting sick of the mention of this disease. For the most of this year, it rendered him useless, and he hated that feeling. He hated not being able to do anything but lay on that long couch and sleep. "Come on, we better get to Charms."

As he stood, he realised all the anger he stored away after all of this happened. He had anger for Scorpiosting – or whoever plagued this school – for making him sick and useless. He was angry with Malfoy and the McElroys for creating this dystopian nightmare for Hagrid and Dreagon, and at the Committee for crumbling at Lucius Malfoy's feet. This blistering anger made him promise that he would ask his parents to dispose of every member of the Committee that allowed this to happen.

"What have I missed?" asked Liam.

"Well, not much," said Tessa. "This is supposed to be the exam week but ... it's not happening so the teachers haven't done much with us."

"So, nothing to catch up?" he asked.

"No," said Tessa.

"Well, what a surprise," said a voice.

It was Cornelius Fudge, in his usual pinstriped cloak, with plumply Eric Cornel beside him in a very tight cloak.

"Ah, how do you do Harry? Liam?" asked Cornel.

"Fine, Prime Minister," said Liam, in the sweetest voice he could muster to hide his bitter feelings to everyone in the Ministry. "Nice to see you again, Minister."

"And you, Liam," said Fudge. "Lovely day, isn't it? It's a pity ..."

"We were called here to address the Sirius Black matter as well as the eerie sickness you poor students have to deal with," said Cornel. "But the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures insisted on a witness for the execution of a mad Hippogriff."

"But the appeal's tomorrow, isn't it?" asked Ron.

"Alas, they moved it up a day," announced Fudge. "We were on our way, you see, and busy Ministry officials tend not to have much time on their hands so you could understand."

"Have they brought this case to my father?" asked Tessa. "He's the Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, surely they must have."

"I'm sorry to say, Miss Williams, the Committee didn't see any reason to," said Cornel. "You must understand, Mr Malfoy's claim was very strong. They dealt with it immediately."

"But then there must be a way we can change _their_ minds," said Harry.

Cornel and Fudge did not say anything more. They put on a dilute smile, as if to reassure them that this was for the good. They then looked up and their smiles disappeared. Behind them had been two men. One had a scruffy moustache that was dusty and matted, and the other held an axe over his shoulder that seemed to glisten wickedly in the light. They must have been from the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures.

"Why's the executioner here?" questioned Liam, and he looked back at Cornel and Fudge, who were both very nervous to meet his eyes. "It's just the appeal, isn't it?"

"Like we said, Ministry officials can get busy ..." said Cornel. "If nothing changes in the appeal, we're afraid –"

"Well, we must be off, now," Fudge interrupted. He fastened his pinstriped cloak before he and Cornel broke past them to join the two men from the Committee. Liam wanted to yell at them that Buckbeak wasn't a danger. He wanted to race them down there and tell them if they wanted to kill Buckbeak, then they were going to have to axe him down first – which was something they wouldn't do ... he hoped.

"Why bring the executioner?" Liam asked his friends as he watched the Prime Minister and Minister set off for Hagrid and Dreagon's hut. "If it's just the appeal then why bring the executioner ... they can't have already ... made up their mind –"

"Don't," Hermione said sharply. "Just don't!"

Hermione dragged Tessa to the front, and together they led them off to the Charms classroom. He hadn't concentrated much in the lesson, but it didn't make much of a difference. Sunderland and Flitwick decided that they would allow what little of the students they had to duel. They asked Liam if he wanted to participate, but he used the fact that he just woke up from a coma as an excuse to get out of it.

He was imagining what was happening at the appeal, hoping that Hagrid and Dreagon could keep it together this one last time. Hagrid said that he got tongue-tied during the trial; Liam doubted he would keep it together for the appeal, not with that sharp axe in his company, taunting him as he fought for Buckbeak's life.

When they arrived at Divination next, Liam was a little alarmed when Professor Trelawney had suddenly swept up in front of him with a wide grin on her face. Her spindly hands clasped his shoulders and she, herself, escorted Liam to the rickety table they always sat at.

"Wonderful! Wonderful! You arrived here today, dear, just as I suspected ..." she had said in a proud whisper. She whisked away in great speed, and then regarded her own crystal ball.

Liam screwed up his face and looked at Harry and Ron for assistance.

"Probably heard you were out of the Hospital Wing," said Harry.

But even Trelawney's sudden welcome to his appearance didn't take Liam's mind off of the appeal. He just hoped Hagrid and Dreagon would be okay. He didn't listen to a word she said, but then again, that was his usual approach to every Divinations lesson he's had.

He was so engrossed on the outcome of the appeal that he hadn't noticed the lesson had been over until after the classroom was empty. He started packing, and then Harry came in.

"Well, you're slow today," said Harry.

"Sorry, I'm just ..."

"We know, we're all worried, too," said Harry.

Liam shouldered his bag and was about to walk out with Harry when something, like glass, broke.

They spun around and saw Professor Trelawney writhing in her armchair, the shattered remnants of a blue teacup on the floor below her.

"Professor –"

" _Mend the bone too thick to work, the Potter kid will end in hurt. Break the chest filled with the secrets within. Cure the plague or Clark will give in._ _"_

Liam knew those words, he'd heard them before ...

"What?" muttered Harry.

"She's mentioned that before," said Liam. "Professor –"

" _It will happen tonight!"_ she continued. _"The Dark Lords drawn apart and alone, abandoned by all, will unite again. Their servant has been chained for twelve years and tonight, before midnight, he will break free from his bonds and set to rejoin with his masters. The Dark Lords will rise again with the aid of their servant ... and they will rise greater and more terrible than ever ... Tonight ... before midnight ... the servant ... will set out ... to rejoin ... his masters ..."_

"Servant – chained for twelve years ... she doesn't mean Sirius Black, does she?" Liam asked.

Harry shrugged.

"Boys?" called Trelawney in a dreamy way. "Did you need anything?"

"Err – no –" said Liam. He pulled a face.

"Anything the matter, dear?" she asked.

"You – you just told us that the – the Dark Lords're going to rise again ... that his servant's going to go back to them ..." said Harry.

Professor Trelawney looked thoroughly startled.

"The Dark Lords? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and Mr Who? Dear me, that is not something you can freely joke about ... especially about them rising again ... dear me, dear me ..."

"But you just – you said it! Just now –"

"Such a wild imagination you have ... did you hear it too, dear?" Trelawney asked Liam.

"Yes," Liam said plainly.

"Well ... then you two must have dozed off ... it isn't uncommon, you know, it happens to me all the time ... quite like now ..." Trelawney assured. "I would certainly not presume to predict anything quite as far-fetched as _that –_ dear me ..." she noticed the pieces of broken china on the floor. "Whatever in the name of Merlin happened here ... ooh, dear me ..."

And she fumbled off to clean up the broken teacup. Harry and Liam exchanged looks, and then set back down the ladder and spiral staircase.

"'Break the bonds too thick to work' ... what d'you suppose that means?" Harry asked.

"Dunno," said Liam. "Reckon she's gone barmy. And what about 'the Potter kid will end in hurt' ... sounds like this 'bond'll knock you silly if you're going to hurt."

"Hey, she also said you'll 'give in'" said Harry. "That part I got. If we don't do something about this sickness, and fast, then you'll die and the rest of the school with you ... well, not the healthy ones, but there are barely any of those, are there."

"And what about that last part ... d'you think she meant Black will rendezvous with the Dark Lords somewhere between now and midnight?"

"If he does, that would mean the Dark Lords will rise again tonight ..." said Harry.

"'Greater and more terrible than ever before' ... that doesn't sound too good," said Liam. People didn't even dare mention the names of the Dark Lords ... what would happen if they were "greater and more terrible than ever before"?

A couple of minutes later they had strolled past the security trolls outside the entrance of the Gryffindor Tower and were bounding up the stairs. _Trelawney's a fraud!_ Liam kept repeating to himself. She kept uttering bad news, not good. Why did everything have to be bad? They found the common room nearly deserted as they entered, and in the corner had been Hermione, Ron and Tessa.

"Professor Trelawney," Harry panted, "just told us –"

Liam was just as eager as Harry to tell them what the loony professor told them, but he saw their expressions. Hermione and Tessa were nearing tears and Ron was sad.

Liam opened his mouth and asked, "What happened –" and Ron shoved a letter in his hands.

 _We lost. It's going to happen at sunset. There's nothing you can do. We don't want you to see it so don't come down._

 _Dreagon._

"What –"

"Dreagon's latest update," said Tessa feebly.

"We've got to go down, then," said Liam suddenly.

"Yeah, they can't just sit there and wait for the executioner!" said Harry.

"Sunset, though," said Ron, who was staring out the window in a glazed sort of way. "We'd never be allowed ... 'specially you, Harry ..."

"Not if we have this," said Liam, holding out his Ring.

"A ring?" asked Hermione.

"What's that gonna do?" asked Ron.

Of course, Tessa and Harry were the only ones who knew about it. He held out his finger and slipped the ring on.

"Whoa!" said Ron. "An Invisibility Ring! Neat."

"How –"

"You can't be a Boy Who Lived without an object that can turn you invisible, right?" joked Harry.

Liam took off his Ring and pocketed it.

"I could take you all but I doubt we'd like to be running down that hill in a long line," said Liam. "So I can take two and Harry can take one under his Cloak. Fair warning, we'd have to be holding hands."

"I'm not holding hands with you," said Ron. "I'll go with Harry."

"One problem, my Cloak's in a hatch behind a statue of a humped witch," said Harry. "We'd have to go get it, Ron. You three can head down already. Wait for us there."

They didn't have to wait too long for Harry and Ron. They came bounding down the hill a few minutes after he and the girls arrived; Liam could tell because their feet would occasionally appear as they ran toward them. Liam knocked on the door as Harry pulled his cloak off him and Ron.

"Wha' in the name of Merlin are you guys doin' here?" asked Dreagon as he opened the door. "We told yeh not ter come!"

"We're here for support," Liam said quickly. "Now, can you let us in, we're not supposed to be out here."

Dreagon stepped aside and, as they walked in, shut the door quickly.

"Blimey! What're you doin' here?" asked Hagrid. "We told yeh not ter come – you did tell them not ter come?" he asked Dreagon.

"Clearly," said Dreagon.

They were shocked to see that Hagrid was not crying. He looked like a man who did not know where he was or what to do. This helplessness was worse to watch than tears.

"Oh well ..." said Hagrid. "Wan' some tea?" His great hands were shaking as he reached for the kettle.

"Where's Buckbeak, Hagrid?" said Hermione hesitantly.

"I – I took him outside," said Hagrid, spilling milk all over the table as he filled up the jug. "He's tethered in me pumpkin patch. Thought he oughta see the trees an' – an' smell fresh air – before –"

Hagrid's hand trembled so violently that the milk jug slipped from his grasp and shattered all over the floor.

"Let me, Rubi," said Dreagon, setting off to clean up the mess, but it didn't seem he was taking the news well, either. He shook just as much as Hagrid did.

"Do you want me to help, Dreagon?" asked Hermione. She and Tessa fell to his aid.

"Yeh really shouldn' have come," said Hagrid and he dropped into a chair.

"Look, we don't care what happens to us," said Ron.

"Wadd'yeh goin' ter do? Rope the executioner ter a tree an' tape his mouth shut?" Hagrid asked.

"That's actually a pretty good idea," said Liam. He hoped to brighten up the mood just a little.

"No, Liam, Cornel'll have yer head!" said Hagrid. "There's nothin' yeh can do. Yer mum an' dad, Liam, they helped a lot but it wasn' enough. Yeh better be off now, Dumbledore, Glumberry and the Committee'll be here soon."

"Come on, there's got to be more we can do, we –" he stopped abruptly. Something started twisting in his arm, like a string or rod. He didn't know what but whatever it was made his arm incredibly uncomfortable.

"What's wrong with yer arm?" Hagrid asked.

He had been shaking it vigorously in hope that it would get rid of the feeling.

"Nothing," said Liam. "Look, I can get my mom and dad down her –"

"No! They've done enough!" said Hagrid.

"Come on, there's got to be something more that we could do," said Harry. "Dumbledore and Glumberry –"

"They've tried," said Hagrid. "They've got no power ter overrule the Committee. They told 'em Buckbeak's all right, but they're scared ... Yeh know what Lucius Malfoy's like ... threatened 'em, I expect ... an' the executioner, Macnair, he's an old pal o' Malfoy's ... but it'll be quick an' clean ... an' we'll be beside him ..."

"That's unacceptable!" said Liam, who shook his hand again; the feeling began to irk him. "I'm not going to let Malfoy win, and I'm sure everyone here agrees with me that they don't deserve the satisfaction of seeing you suffer."

"We told yeh, there's nothing more you can do," said Dreagon. "The Headmasters will be down here when – you know – when it happens – said they'd want to be here for Hagrid –" he choked back a sobbed. Buckbeak was Hagrid's pet, but Dreagon took this just as hard as he did.

"We'll stay here with you," said Hermione, who began to cry. "We'll stay here until it's done."

"No. Yeh're ter go back up ter the castle. We told yeh, we don' wan' yeh watchin'. An' yeh shouldn' be down here anyway ... If they catch yeh out without permission, Harry, yeh'll be in big trouble."

"Oh no!" said Hagrid, and he stood, knocking the table as he fumbled to his feet. "They're comin' ..."

Out of nowhere, a rat skittered across the table.

"I don't believe it!" said Hermione.

" _Scabbers!"_ Ron said and he grabbed him by the tail before he could run off. "What are you doing here, Scabbers."

He grabbed the struggling rat and held him up to the light. Scabbers looked dreadful. He was thinner than ever, large tufts of hair had fallen out leaving wide bald patches, and he writhed in Ron's hands as though desperate to free himself.

"It's okay, Scabbers!" said Ron. "No cats! There's nothing here to hurt you!"

"They're getting closer," said Hagrid. He was trembling. "Yeh gotta go – now – quickly, they mustn' find yeh here!"

Liam fingered his ring as Ron put Scabbers in his chest pocket. If they needed to use it, it was at the ready.

"Off yeh go!" said Dreagon, hustling them to the door into their back garden. This all seemed like a dream, how could this be happening? The feeling didn't go away when he saw Buckbeak a few yards away, tethered to a tree behind Hagrid's pumpkin patch. Buckbeak seemed to know something was happening. He turned his sharp head from side to side and pawed the ground nervously.

He suddenly felt guilty – it hadn't been as bad as usual – had Buckbeak known that he would soon die?

"Off yeh go – and don' look back – go! Don' think abou' comin' back, it'll be bad enough with yeh in trouble –" Dreagon pushed them off and they broke into a run. Liam pulled out his ring, slipped it on and took ahold of Hermione and Tessa's hands as Harry pulled his cloak over him and Ron.

Slowly, Harry, Ron, Liam, Tessa and Hermione set off silently around Hagrid's house. As they reached the other side, the front door closed with a sharp snap.

"Good evening ..." came Dumbledore's voice, and they could see his shadow in the window.

"Please, let's hurry," Hermione whispered, her hand shaking. "I can't stand it, I can't bear it ..."

They started up the sloping lawn toward the castle. The sun was sinking fast now; the sky had turned to a clear, purple-tinged grey, but on the other side there was a ruby-red glow.

Ron stopped dead.

"Oh, Ron, please," Hermione begged.

"It's Scabbers – he won't – stay put –"

They heard the door open and shut close. Men's voices followed after. Hermione's grip on his hand tightened.

"Ron, please –"

"Ron, get that rat of yours under control!" Liam demanded for both the sake of Hermione and his hand.

"Spare 'im! He's bin like family ter Hagrid an' me! Please!"

" _Ron!"_

"Scabbers, stay _put!"_ Ron tried wrestling his rat back into his pocket. "Shut it, you! You're making noise!"

The rat was squealing wildly, but not loudly enough to cover up the sounds drifting from Hagrid's garden. There was chattering male voices, a silence, and then, without warning, the unmistakable swish and thud of an axe.

Hermione would have broken Liam's hand.

"T-they – they _did_ it –" she whispered. "I don't believe it – they did it."

"Hermione –" Liam said weakly but she broke down. Tessa made to console her, but the moment she let go of his hand the irksome feeling surged through his arm again, greater than before. Liam clenched his hand; nothing he did made it disappear.

Then suddenly a white-hot pain shot through his arm, and a blinding, bright light pricked his eyes. He blinked back the spots that appeared out of nowhere and peered at his hand, which tensed to a point that it shook. The feeling came back and, together with the pain, Liam saw something appear just under his palm ... bubbling on his skin ... something black and strange.

"Liam?" that voice was distant and secluded ... was is Harry? "Liam?"

He looked up at his cousin, unsure whether he could see him or not, but as his eyes lay on him, a loose sensation let flow in his nose and he fell.

The dizziness hit him, and everyone moved slowly. Harry fell to his side in a blur, pulled the ring off his finger, and then ripped off his cloak. Liam turned his arm so that his cousin could see what was happening, but he lost sense of everything and fell into darkness ...

When Liam woke up next the first thing he looked at was his wrist, and the feeling he got was inconclusive. On it, just under his palm, was a scorpion in dark print like a tattoo. He felt a mixture of fear, dread and anger bubbling in his stomach. What was going to happen next? How long did he have to live? They should have worked faster! They should have looked for Scorpiosting and killed him before they could allow this to happen!

 _When did this get so out of control that he started to believe Scorpiosting was behind this whole thing?_ He was a million years old, how could he be alive. This sickness was just making him paranoid.

"Second time today you've managed to scare the living daylights out of me, Junior," said his father. He was been beside him, and his mother on the other. Harry, Ron, Tessa and Hermione lined behind them, worry riddled on all their faces.

"I fainted again, didn't I?" he tried to make it sound like a joke and not like he had just been through the scariest escapade ever.

"And your nose started bleeding," said Mr Clark. "And ... you also got bitten."

"I gathered ..." said Liam, looking at his arm just in case it was all an illusion. Seeing it again just cooked up the feelings again. "So ... what happens now?" His voice broke, he tried to bite it back.

His parents shook their heads.

"We don't know ..." his mother said, and she broke down. "We have _no idea_ what will happen next!"

She sobbed in his arms and Liam had to admit he didn't feel too far off from doing it himself. He didn't want to die ... Looking around he saw his friends didn't want him do, either. His father looked uncomfortably distressed, as if he was trying to cry and not to cry at the same time. Hermione and Tessa had no problem in choosing between the two. Tears streamed down both their faces. Ron, whose chest pocket was wriggling, looked extremely worried and Harry fought against a heavy chest. His cousin fought back the tears; he could clearly see that which only made him want to cry more.

And then a menacingly shallow laugh cackled through the air. It was deep and thundering and incredibly familiar.

" _Such distress ..."_ it laughed. _"If only there was a way to stop it ... I grow impatient and trust me when I say I will not hesitate to kill every sick pupil in the ward of Hogwarts if a Muggleborn is not brought to me by midnight!"_

Midnight. That's when he would die.


	18. The Shrieking Shack

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The Shrieking Shack

Harry was numb with shock. He had faced death multiple times before, but now, as it dangled in the light of his cousin's eyes, it felt more real. Harry never believed that there wasn't a way to save him. His parents seemed well on the track until now. It dawned on him that Liam had up until midnight to survive, after that Harry would be without a cousin. The one family he probably spent most of his time with would be dead and all they had to do was give up a Muggleborn student.

Harry's eyes drifted to Hermione.

 _No, Harry! She's your friend!_

He shook his head of the image. No Muggleborn deserved to die for Scorpiosting. Not to show that they were the inferior race, not ever. Von Seiler's view on what Scorpiosting aimed to do was alarmingly accurate. Desperate people would take 'desperate measures'. Slytherin's companion's plan began falling into place. If Harry could look at the first Muggleborn student and think of her as a way to end this, just for the life of his cousin, what was stopping everyone else from thinking the same?

Harry thought of Beck Lavery, who had a cousin in Hufflepuff named Logan. Would Logan Lavery look at the first Muggleborn in sight and have the hungry desire to give them up to Scorpiosting just to save his cousin? Or did he have enough sense to think that they deserved to live just as much as he did? Maybe he would only realise his mistake after he did it ... how would he live with the guilt that he gave up an innocent life?

It was just one Muggleborn for the price of most of the school. How could something so easy come with such a heavy price. Kill one to save many.

Liam sighed, his eyes glazed but no tears shed. It was amazing how he held it together better than anyone else. His mother had broken down in his arms, Hermione and Tessa were both crying and his father looked lost for words, possibly broken at the image of his dead son. Harry thought of it. He pictured Liam's limp, pale body after midnight struck ... or would his body, and everyone else's, just disappear when Scorpiosting's deadline came?

Liam scoffed.

It was something Harry found very arbitrary and strange. Who could even begin to smile at a moment like this? He had about five hours to live, he should be panicking. Harry wasn't alone in this. His aunt and uncle looked at him as though he'd gone mad and Hermione, Tessa and Ron all looked like they hadn't heard him properly.

Liam broke into a laugh.

It was cheerful, and even in the situation it brightened up a bit of Harry's mood. He cracked a smile for his cousin's sake and was laughing no sooner than later. Everyone looked between him and Liam, wondering if this was some inside joke. Harry thought they may have even hoped that this whole sickness was some kind of joke he and Liam were pulling, and in some way Harry hoped so, too. But how can a trick he was pulling work if Harry hadn't known a thing about it?

That's how he felt. He didn't know a thing about this sickness. How one gets it, how to stop it.

Harry felt a bubbling anger at the Muggle friend of his uncle's, the one that had brought him the Scorpion Chest as a gift ... a gift. Harry would have laughed at that. Scorpiosting's chest, the very same one that may have brought him here to wreak havoc in the school, a gift? Above all it was a curse and a burden. One in which you would lose either way.

"Well ..." scoffed Liam. "I feel as fit as a fiddle –"

Harry managed a strangled whimper. He'd said that before when Harry believed there was hope to save him.

"– why don't we all go for a walk ... just the five of us, if that's OK," he said to his mom and dad.

His mom wiped her eyes and said, "Yeah – sure – go ahead."

Liam jumped out of the bed. He was the only one with a smile, everyone else looked at him as though he was going to drop dead at any moment, Harry half believed that. He was the only one of the sick students that had been bitten by the Scorpion Sting. He jumped around on the spot, Harry thought to make his point. He was fit enough to take a walk.

"Well, come on ... time burns ..." said Liam. Hermione, Ron and Tessa rose slowly. "Time burns when you do that, too," he joked.

Harry laughed. He had to laugh.

"How are you fine about this?" cried Hermione. "You're _going_ to die ..."

"In roughly five hours ... I'll start worrying about it thirty minutes before midnight," Liam laughed nervously as though he was hoping that would comfort them. "Look, five hours, that leaves us with more than enough time to seal the cracks, hey, Hermione ... let bygones be bygones for real."

It was sickening that they only truly intended to do this when they were certain Liam was going to die.

Hermione had thrown her arms around him, sobbing in his shoulder.

"Oh, come on, _Besty ..."_ that only made her cry more.

"I don't know how I ever saw you as a bad influence," she whispered. "I don't know why, anymore – why I thought you were bad."

"Oh don't worry, dear," said Mr Clark, and he looked up at his wife. "That influence is a Clark thing. Isn't that right, Angie?"

Wiping her tears, Mrs Clark scoffed, "Yeah ..."

"See, not a problem," said Liam. "But the more time we waste here the less time we'll have."

As they walked along the corridors of the castle, Harry noticed that Liam's breathing became thin and uneven. He wasn't sure if that was the sickness or his subtle way of showing that he was freaking out. Apart from that, he was fine. Unfortunately he was the only one.

Both Hermione and Tessa had become jittery as they followed Liam, nervously trying to pitch into the conversation. Ron was stiff and anxious and walked behind them. Harry would have been, too, but his cousin was full of energy and for his sake he decided he would be, as well.

"Hey Tess, remember that statue over there?" Liam asked, pointing at a statue sitting on a bench in a fountain quad. "That's where we first met –"

Tessa tackled him next, crying and weeping just as hard as Hermione had.

"Oh Liam –"

"It's OK, you don't have to say anything ..."

Harry wanted to hug him, too. He spent all of a year and a half with him and he already felt like he was losing a part of his life.

"OWE –" bellowed Ron. His chest pocket began to wriggle again, and Ron pulled out his bothersome rat. "Scabbers, you chop, why'd you bite me?"

The rat wriggled madly.

"What's the _matter_ with you? Quit wriggling, you stupid rat! Stay still – OUCH! He bit me again!" yelled Ron. "Keep still – what –"

Harry shrugged, but then he saw Crookshanks, skulking toward them with his body low. His bright yellow eyes glaring at Scabbers.

"Crookshanks!" Hermione moaned. "No, go away, Crookshanks! Go away!"

But the cat drew nearer –

"SCABBERS!"

The rat had slipped through Ron's fingers, hit the ground and scuttled away. Crookshanks leaped after and, before anyone would stop him, Ron tore off after them.

" _Ron!"_

"Up for a little chase?" Harry asked.

"I need something to make me feel alive, don't I?" jested Liam.

They broke into a run after Ron. There was barely any light to see where he was, but they could hear his feet ahead.

"Get away from him – get away – Scabbers, come here –"

There was a loud thud.

" _Gotcha!_ Get off, you stinking cat –"

"Ron!" called Tessa. "Are you okay –"

"What _is_ that?" asked Liam.

They kept quiet. Aside from Scabbers' squeals there was a soft hum in the air, something like ... growling. Harry's heart leaped. It was now completely dark and he could hear the growling getting louder. He stared out in front of him, and he saw it, lurking before them – an enormous, pale-eyed, jet-black dog.

Harry made for his wand but too late – the dog made a huge leap over Harry. He felt the cold air rushing onto his face as the dog soared over him. It landed somewhere else and then skittered in another direction; the dog's jaws fastened instead around Ron's outstretched arm.

"Ron!" yelled Harry. He stared off after the dog as it dragged Ron as easily as a rag doll.

Then, out of nowhere, something hit Harry so hard across the face he was knocked off his feet again. He heard Hermione and Tessa shriek with pain and fall too, and Liam grunted.

"What the hell – _UMPF!"_ Harry heard a thud, and he pulled out his wand.

" _Lumos!"_ he whispered.

They had followed to the Whomping Willow, its branches swayed back and forth as thought caught in a strong wind, trying to prevent them from moving any closer.

At the base of the trunk, Harry saw, the dog had been dragging Ron backwards toward the roots. He was slowly slipping out of sight. Harry saw Ron had hooked his leg tightly around a root, trying to stop the dog from pulling him any further – _CRACK ..._ Ron's scream cut through the air like a gunshot. His leg had broken, and then he and his foot had disappeared from sight.

"NO! RON!" called out Harry.

"That didn't sound too good," said Liam.

"We've got to find a way in –"

"How? Mr Whacky over here doesn't seem to like that idea," said Liam. "Great, dying boy gets killed by an angry tree ... yeah, that'll make the front page ..." his cousin was hit again and he bounded to the ground.

"If that dog can get in, so can we!" Harry panted, darting here and there, trying to find a way through the vicious, swishing branches.

"Great plan!" moaned Liam.

Suddenly, Crookshanks appeared.

"Oh, Crookshanks! Help! Please!" cried Hermione.

Crookshanks darted forward. He slithered between the battering branches like a snake and placed his front paws upon a knot on the trunk.

Steeply, the tree stopped moving.

"Crookshanks – how did you –" stammered Hermione. "How did he know?"

"He's friends with that dog," said Harry.

"Not important, listen," said Liam. "One of you has got to go back to castle and call for help. The bigger the crowd the better, get a mob if you have to ... that dog doesn't look like he can be taken down by a couple of thirteen-year olds."

"I'll go," Tessa volunteered.

"Be safe," said Liam. "And find my parents first."

Liam spun around as Tessa pelted back up the hill. That probably wasn't the greatest idea. Tessa seeking help only to have to explain why they had been out of the castle so late. Either way, Harry looked at his cousin and then at the base of the trunk.

"Let's go get our friend back," said Liam.

They had followed Crookshanks and his bottlebrush tail of his down an earthy slope that led to a very low tunnel. They went in one by one, Harry first, Hermione second and Liam last.

"So what, we follow the tunnel on?" asked Liam.

"Yeah, Ron must be this way," said Harry.

"Where does this tunnel lead?" asked Hermione.

"I don't know ... It's marked on the Marauder's Map but Fred and George said no one's ever gotten into it ... It goes off the edge of the map, but it looked like it was heading for Hogsmeade ..."

They moved quickly, bending lowly. Crookshank's tail bobbed in and out of view. The passage went on; Harry felt like it had been as long as the one to Honeydukes ... All Harry could think of was Ron and what the enormous dog might be doing to him.

The tunnel began to rise, and then it twisted and Crookshanks had gone. Harry could see a patch of dim light through a small opening.

He, Liam and Hermione paused, gasping for breath, edging forward. Both raised their wands to see what lay beyond.

It was a dusty and disordered room. Paper was peeling from the walls; there were stains all over the floor; every piece of furniture was broken as though somebody had smashed it. The windows were all boarded up.

Harry and Liam exchanged looks, very frightened looks.

"Hermione, now would be a good time for you to active your 'Smart Girl' sense ..." said Liam, holding his wand up.

Harry pulled himself out of the hole, staring around. The room was deserted, but a door to their right stood open, leading to a shadowy hallway. Hermione suddenly grabbed Harry's arm again. Her wide eyes were traveling around the boarded windows.

"I – I think we're in the Shrieking Shack," she whispered.

"Shrieking Shack?" muttered Liam, shining his wand above him. There were more stains on the ceiling. "You mean to tell me we're in the one place we're not suppose to be in ... well, that's not new ..." He was clearly scared.

 _CREAK!_

" _Nox!"_ Liam said hastily, and their lights extinguished. Harry looked at Liam, he didn't know if he saw him or not. "Sorry ... tiny bit freaked right now."

He could not blame him, he was too. How long did it take to get help? They walked their way to an ajar door. They could hear a low moan and loud purring.

"Here goes nothing," said Harry, and he kicked the door open.

Crookshanks lay on a magnificent four-poster bed with dusty hangings. On the floor beside him, clutching his leg, which stuck out at a strange angle, was Ron.

Harry, Liam and Hermione dashed across to him.

"No!" snapped Ron, shaking his head vigorously.

"Ron, what's the matter with you?" Liam asked.

"Are you okay?" asked Hermione.

"Where's the dog?"

"Not a dog!" Ron moaned, gritting his teeth. "Harry, it's a trap –"

"What?"

" _He's the dog, Harry –"_

 _BANG!_

Harry spun around. Out stepped a man in the shadows, his elbow-length hair was matted and filthy. His eyes rested in deep, dark sockets and his waxy skin stretched tightly over the bones on his face.

"Sirius Black," muttered Liam.

His yellow teeth bared in a grin.

He pulled out Ron's wand and, before they could do anything, he croaked, _"Expelliarmus!"_

Their wands shot right out of their hands. Black caught them in mid-air, his eyes on Harry.

"I thought you'd come to help you friend," Black said hoarsely. "Your father would have done the same for me ... I'm grateful you didn't run off to a teacher ... it'll make every much easier ..."

"Yeah, we're not stupid," said Liam. "We've sent one of our friends off to get help!"

"If you want to kill Harry, you're going to have to kill us, too!" roared Ron, and he pushed against the wall to stand but fell back to his position, grunting from the pain.

"Lay still," said Black. "You'll injure leg even more."

All Harry could think about was how he killed his parents. And all he wanted to do was get back at Black for doing that. Though his wand was in Black's, it didn't stop him for launching towards Black. Black, though, dodged him and threw him back to the other three, holding his wand towards the three of them.

"They'll be only one death today," hissed Black.

"Why's that?" retorted Harry. "That didn't bother you when you went after Pettigrew ... killing all those Muggles ... and what about my parents?"

"Harry, let me tell you the whole story –"

"YOUR _STORY ..._ YOUR STORY IS THAT YOU _KILLED_ MY MOM AND DAD ... _YOU_ SOLD THEM OUT TO VOLDEMORT!" roared Harry.

"I've ... waited too long for this ..." croaked Black. "There's more to _my_ story than there seems ... I won't deny being the death of James and Lily, but I do deny the part where it had all been my fault ..."

Then, suddenly, footsteps came from below and Black hid back behind the door like he had done before. The door swung open and in came Professor Lupin, Venus and Mr Clark. Professor Lupin wheeled around, spotted Black and pulled him out from the shadows. Mr Clark raised his wand and Venus stepped back.

"Tommy ..." laughed Black, grinning at Mr Clark.

Mr Clark's face remained impassive.

"Black," said Mr Clark, he said it as though Black was a pest that was bothering him. "I have to say, when I was told Mr Weasley was taken by great black dog I couldn't imagine how such a thing would find its way onto the Hogwarts premises. But then I thought about it ... tell me, Sirius, when did you become so foolish that you decided to pursue this ambitious attempt?"

Black scoffed.

"Now you and I both know that's not how Thomas Clark talks –"

"Only to my enemies, Black." Mr Clark's wand raised higher. "Which, if you haven't noticed, is you."

Black's grin was gone.

"Don't tell me he's gotten you fooled, too, Tom? Come on, you know me – better than anyone, Tom –"

"I _thought_ I knew you," said Mr Clark. "But then you strayed ... killed off Pettigrew and then you went off after _our_ best friends ... you went off after Lily and James and you had them killed!"

"He doesn't believe me, Remus ..." said Black in a kind of maniacal wail. "He doesn't believe me!"

"How could I? After all we've done together you go off and do – you – you agree with me, don't you, Remus ... Sirius is a traitor!"

But all Professor Lupin did was turn to face Mr Clark with an impassive face, and then he let go of Black.

"Where is he, Sirius?" asked Lupin.

"Remus – what?" came Mr Clark. "You were with him the whole time?"

Professor Lupin and Black ignored him. Black stood, motionless at first, but then he raised a bony finger towards a bewildered Ron. All that was there was a boy with his bloody, broken leg and a lump in his chest pocket.

Mr Clark trembled on the spot. Had he been wondering what had been going on, too, or was he with them, his friends from school?

Lupin held out his hand to Black and he shook it, like they were brothers. Harry's heart did another leap. He turned to Mr Clark, who was shaking his head.

"Venus –"

Venus stared at Mr Clark, and then walked past him with his own hand outstretched; Black shook it.

"What –" came Mr Clark again. And then his wand was up again.

"Tom –"

"Don't _Tom_ me, Remus! You've been aiding him this entire time – and I trusted you – you told me you would be off to Hogwarts to teach, and I put you in the care of my son and nephew – and this is what you do – your form ranks with that – with that _murderer!"_ screamed Mr Clark.

"Tom, please put your wand down," said Venus.

"And you – I should have known you weren't coming here to teach – no one would ever believe Venus Sting became a teacher – traitors! All of you, traitors –!"

"Tom, if you could just listen to what Sirius has to say," said Professor Lupin. "And please, lower your wand."

Mr Clark hesitantly did so.

"Thank you," said Professor Lupin.

"Hold on, you're going to allow them to do this?" questioned Harry.

"They talk," Mr Clark demanded. His eyes fixed on Black. "If they even _look_ suspicious, I'll blast them out of here! Do we have an agreement?"

"Agreed," said Lupin.

"Why should we listen to you?" asked Hermione. _"Werewolf?"_

The shack grew silent again. Everyone had their eyes fixed upon Lupin, who was shocked.

"How long have you known?" he asked.

"Ages!" said Hermione. "Tessa and I recognised your symptoms off of Snape's essay."

"You two are clever girls, then," complemented Lupin. "Professor Snape set that essay hoping someone would be able to identify my symptoms. I supposed you checked the Lunar chart and found that I was always ill on the full moon, or perhaps you saw that my boggart was a full moon."

"Both," said Hermione.

"Excellent!" beamed Mr Clark, despite their situation. "You really are a bright young witch, Hermione. You remind me of Angela."

"Thank you, Mr Clark, but it seems I wasn't that smart," said Hermione. "I should have told everyone he was a werewolf."

"They already know," said Lupin.

"They – they do?" asked Hermione.

"Well, the staff does anyway," said Lupin.

"Dumbledore and Glumberry let you teach even though they knew you were a werewolf?" Ron asked.

"I took a while to convince the staff that I was trustworthy –"

"A coverup, I see," said Liam sourly. "Make everyone think you're innocent and then backstab all those who ever cared about you. If you were working with Black this whole time then why didn't you finish Harry during our anti-dementor lessons? Did Black want to do the honours himself?"

Harry knew where this was coming from. Liam was angry, yes, but he knew that somewhere in his mind he had the image of Ronan Droge in the place Lupin stood.

"We weren't working with Black!" yelled Venus, who had seized Hermione, Harry, Liam and Ron's wands and threw them back. "We were against him."

"But –"

"We were on our way here before Tessa called us ... the Marauder's Map, it showed us that he was up here with you," said Venus.

"You know how to work the map?" Harry asked. He noticed his uncle shot a glance to his hand.

"Well of course we know how to work the map, Harry, I'm Moony," said Lupin. "That's what they nicknamed me back when we were at school. Three guesses why –"

"You're a werewolf," said Liam. "But if you're Moony, then what about the other three. Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs?"

"Padfoot –" Venus gestured Sirius Black, "– Prongs was your dad, Harry and Wormtail we believe may be here."

"And what about the other three you mentions on the map ... Pitch, Stripes and Silverpaw?" asked Liam.

"Well, we should be asking you if you'd like to be called Silverpaw Junior," said Mr Clark.

"You?" Liam asked, pointing at his father. "You're Silverpaw. Wait – wait – Wigan and Venus are you friends as well, considering Wigan has dark hair I'm guessing he's Pitch, which means you're Stripes –" he pointed at Venus. "But why Stripes?"

"I'm a tiger," said Venus plainly.

"Tiger?"

"Wait hold on," said Harry. "You said that Wormtail might be here. What did you mean by that?"

Professor Lupin opened his mouth to speak, "While we were scanning the Map, we realised you were accompanied by someone –"

"What, now we weren't," said Harry.

Professor Lupin continued, "Then I saw another dot zooming towards you, Sirius Black. I saw him collide with you, pulling the two of you into the Whomping Willow."

"One of us!" said Ron.

"No Ron," said Lupin. "Three." Lupin stopped pacing, he looked at Ron with a thin smile. "Your rat, Scabbers, may I see him, Ron?"

"What does Scabbers have to do with this?" asked Ron.

"Everything!" snapped Black, impatiently.

Then something dawned to Mr Clark. "Wait! You don't mean –"

"Yes, indeed," said Lupin.

"No one's taking my rat until someone tells me what he's got to do with this!" snapped Ron, holding Scabber close to his chest.

"That rat, Ron, is not a rat at all," said Venus. "Oh so we've heard ..." he looked at Black.

"It's a wizard," croaked Black. "An Animagus by the name of Peter Pettigrew," he continued, his eyes staring hungrily at the wriggling rat in Ron's hand.

"Mental!" Ron said. "The lot of you!"

"That's completely ludicrous!" Hermione said faintly.

"Pettigrew's dead! Murdered by Black, twelve years ago! He killed him!" said Harry, pointing at Black.

"I meant to," Black said huskily, his eyes darting to trembling Scabbers with a yearning look in those sunken eyes of his. "But little Peter got the better of me ... not this time, though."

"We can't do it this way, Sirius!" said Lupin. "We must explain."

"All right!" said Black, his yellow teeth gritted. "But make it fast ... I want them to know the truth ... I've waited far too long ..."

"I'm sure you are all aware of the tale that Pettigrew died at the hand of Sirius –"

"IT'S A LIE! IT'S ALL A LIE!" barked Black.

"Everyone believed that Sirius killed Peter," said Lupin. "We all thought that he had until we saw his name on the map, and that map never lies."

"Peter's alive, Harry. Ron's holding him," said Lupin.

"But – that can't be true, Professor," said Hermione.

"And why not?" asked Lupin.

"Because ... because people would know if Peter Pettigrew was an Animagus. Animagi is part of the Transfigurations syllabus this year with Professors McDonald and McGonagall. I looked them up once – the Ministry of Magic keeps tabs on members of the Wizarding community who can become animals; there's a register showing what animal they become, and their markings and things ... and I went and looked Professor McGonagall and Professor McDonald up on the register, and there have been only ten Animagi this century, and Pettigrew's name wasn't on the list –"

"Right you are, Hermione!" laughed Lupin. "But the Ministry wasn't aware of the six unregistered Animagi in Hogwarts. The story starts ... well ... here, I guess."

"This haunted shack?" asked Ron.

"It's not haunted," said Lupin. "Harry, Liam ... I once told you that the Whomping Willow was plant the same year I came. I didn't manage to express with you about the fact that it was _planted_ because of me. They planted near the Shrieking Shack so that it could act as a – a sanctuary, I guess. The moaning and groaning the villagers all heard were me ... I – I was a rather small boy when I received the bite. My parents tried everything, but there was no cure in those days. The potion Professor Snape has been making me is a very new discovery. As long as I take it in the week preceding the full moon, I keep my mind when I transform.

"However, before the Wolfsbane Potions came, I became a monster. I was shocked I was even accepted into Hogwarts. My parents wouldn't have wanted to expose me to other children.

"But then Dumbledore and Glumberry became the Headmasters, and he was sympathetic. He said that as long as we took certain precautions, there was no reason I shouldn't come to school ..." Lupin sighed, and looked directly at Harry. "This house – the tunnel that leads to it – they were built for my use. Once a month, I was smuggled out of the castle, into this place, to transform. The tree was placed at the tunnel mouth to stop anyone coming across me while I was dangerous."

Honestly, Harry couldn't see where the story was going.

"My transformations in those days were – were terrible. It is very painful to turn into a werewolf. I was separated from humans, they were a tempting bite, so I bit and scratched myself instead. When the villagers heard it, they thought they were hearing particularly violent spirits. Dumbledore and Glumberry both encouraged the rumour ... Even now, when the house has been silent for years, the villagers don't dare approach it ...

"But apart from my transformations, I was happier than I had ever been in my life. For the first time ever, I had friends, six great friends. Sirius Black ... Venus Sting ... Peter Pettigrew ... Tom Wigan ... Thomas Clark and, of course, your father, Harry – James Potter.

"Now, my six friends could hardly fail to notice that I disappeared once a month. I made up all sorts of stories. I told them my mother was ill, and that I had to go home to see her ... I was terrified they would desert me the moment they found out what I was. But of course, they, like you, Hermione, worked out the truth ...

"They didn't desert me, instead, they did something for me. To make my transformations bearable, they all became Animagi."

"Your dad, too, Harry," said Mr Clark.

"Yeah, it took a while to master the art," said Venus. "Got a little help from Tommy – Wigan, I mean – but the crust of the work was all Tom, James, Sirius and me."

"They were the most clever students I knew," said Lupin. "They couldn't keep me company as humans, so they kept me company as animals. A werewolf is only a danger to people. They sneaked out of the castle every month under James's Invisibility Cloak. They transformed ... Peter, as the smallest, could slip beneath the Willow's attacking branches and touch the knot that freezes it. They would then slip down the tunnel and join me. Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind seemed to become less so while I was with them.

"Highly exciting possibilities were open to us now that we could all transform. Soon we were leaving the Shrieking Shack and roaming the school grounds and the village by night. Sirius, James, Venus and Tom transformed into such large animals, they were able to keep a werewolf in check. I doubt whether any Hogwarts students ever found out more about the Hogwarts grounds and Hogsmeade than we did ... And that's how we came to write the Marauder's Map, and sign it with our nicknames. Sirius is Padfoot. Peter is Wormtail. James was Prongs. Then of course, you'll already figured out the other three?"

"How come your names weren't on the map?" asked Liam.

"When they wrote the Marauder's Map we were busy with something as to compete ... We had a lot of competitions."

"That was still really dangerous! Running around in the dark with a werewolf! What if you'd given the others the slip, and bitten somebody?"

"A thought that still haunts me," said Lupin heavily. "And there were near misses, many of them. We laughed about them afterwards. We were young, thoughtless – carried away with our own cleverness."

"Exhibit A," said Venus, pulling up his sleeve to reveal a long scar extending from his wrist.

"Exhibit B," said Mr Clark, holding up his hand. A scar cut right through it. "It turns up silver in my Animagi form. That's why hey call me Silverpaw."

"Hurry along!" snapped Sirius.

"Yes, all right," said Lupin. "I sometimes felt guilty about betraying Glumberry and Dumbledore's trust, of course ... they had admitted me to Hogwarts when no other headmaster would have done so, and they had no idea I was breaking the rules they had set down for my own and others' safety. None knew I had led six fellow students into becoming Animagi illegally. But I always managed to forget my guilty feelings every time we sat down to plan our next month's adventure. And I haven't changed ..."

"I wondered and battled with myself to tell them that Black was an Animagus, but that would have revealed to them that I had broken their trust ... I was too cowardly ... so, in a way, Snape's been right about me all along."

"Snape?" said Black harshly, taking his eyes off Scabbers for the first time in minutes and looking up at Lupin. "What's Snape got to do with it?"

"He's here, Sirius," said Lupin heavily. "He's teaching here as well." He looked up at Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"Snape went to school with us," said Mr Clark.

"Snape always wondered why I was smuggled out at night every month," said Lupin. "One day, he became too close to knowing the truth, Sirius here, played a little trick on him that nearly got him killed."

"It was a classic, really," said Venus.

"It served him right and Venus agrees," said Black. "Nobody comes sneaking up on us to find out what we're up to."

"Severus was very interested in where I went every month," Lupin told them. "We were in the same year, you know, and we – er – didn't like each other very much. He especially disliked James. Jealous, I think, of James's talent on the Quidditch field ... anyway Snape had seen me crossing the grounds with Madam Pomfrey one evening as she led me toward the Whomping Willow to transform. Sirius thought it would be – er – amusing, to tell Snape all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree trunk with a long stick, and he'd be able to get in after me. Well, of course, Snape tried it – if he'd got as far as this house, he'd have met a fully grown werewolf – but your father, Harry, who'd heard what Sirius had done, went after Snape and pulled him back, at great risk to his life ... Snape glimpsed me, though, at the end of the tunnel. He was forbidden by Dumbledore to tell anybody, but from that time on he knew what I was ..."

"So that's why Snape doesn't like you?" asked Harry

"That's right," Snape peered out from the door, pulling off the Cloak of Invisibility.


	19. Sargas Scorpiosting

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Sargas Scorpiosting

Liam did not find any part of this escapade fun. He had experienced all kinds of pain today that he didn't ever imagine he would be feeling. He got bitten by a tattoo scorpion. He got whacked senseless by a tree. He kept getting a shooting pain in his side as though his body was already preparing to give up. And he never thought about the odd sensation of having your soul being ripped out from your body.

In addition to that, he had learnt Sirius Black had been innocent and that Scabbers the rat was actually Peter Pettigrew, the man who was really at blame for the Potter's deaths. Lupin hadn't taken his Wolfsbane potion tonight so he turned into a bloodthirsty werewolf instead of that humble controlled one he usually locked up in his own office; he would have killed them all if it hadn't been for Sirius, Venus and his father, who had taken their Animagi forms to fight him off.

Then he, Harry and Hermione found themselves chasing after Sirius only to be surrounded by Dementors who nearly sucked out his soul ... luckily someone, whom Harry thought was his father, had cast a Patronus so bright that it scared the Dementors away. They couldn't do much from there before they all blacked out, and when they woke up they heard Cornelius Fudge and Eric Cornel discussing when they were going to perform the Dementor's Kiss on Sirius Black with Snape and Wolverhampton, the two people who gave that innocent man up.

Dumbledore and Glumberry then sent them on a wild goose chase literally back in time. Harry and him learnt how Hermione and Tessa had been getting around to all their classes, they shared this object called the Time Turner that could bring you back to any time you want with a certain number of turns.

They left Ron, because of his broken leg, and Tessa stayed to keep him company. And then they had first gone to save Buckbeak the Hippogriff from his execution earlier that day. The Hippogriff was difficult to keep still, especially since Liam had been shoved on the sore side of his body.

They had waited for the time in which they followed Scabbers to the Whomping Willow, and Liam got the joy having to watch himself being beaten by a tree all over again. Then they waited after they had watched themselves follow Crookshanks into the Shrieking Shack to save Ron. When they had come out, seeing Lupin's transformation was just as bad the second time around.

He vaguely remembered what they did to lure Werewolf-Lupin away from Sirius so that they could give him the opportunity to escape, but they ended up near a lake where they all discovered the unknown person who cast the Patronus had not been James Potter but Harry himself.

With that, Sirius got captured and they used Buckbeak to fly up to the Charms classroom in order to save him. Sirius rode off into the sky on Buckbeak the Hippogriff, two lives that they had successfully saved before midnight.

Liam tried not to think about that as they raced against the clock. Their deadline wasn't midnight, Dumbledore and Glumberry weren't going to be so cruel that they would make Liam go off on that long adventure only to return to death. The deadline was an hour before.

They bounded down step after step, running as fast as their legs could carry and scuttling across corridors. Liam pushed himself, not even thinking about how tired he was. They had to beat this deadline, he didn't know what would happen if they didn't but Hermione made her point with the grim expression she gave them after they had asked.

His legs were numb. Either the sickness was getting to him or he was just incredibly tired. He had been chased across the Forbidden Forest by a werewolf, and traveled back in time. Could traveling back in time make someone tired? Hermione and Tessa were always tired. He jetted down in front of both of them, the pain in his side had gotten worse, but then he was pulled back by the collar and pushed against the wall.

"Listen," Hermione whispered to him, bringing her finger to her lips.

Liam flattened himself against the wall; there were voices trailing along the corridor. It was Cornel, Fudge, Snape and Wolverhampton, walking quickly along the foot of the staircase.

"Wait until they find out –"

 _"_ _SSSH!"_

Liam would have wished to see their faces after they realised Sirius Black had escaped their grasp once again. Once the four of them had been out of sight, Harry, Liam and Hermione crept along yet another corridor ... a door opened. Glumberry and Dumbledore's backs appeared.

"An hour before midnight, we're locking it, you hear ... twenty turns should do the trick," said Dumbledore. "I hope it fits the three of you, if not, try the Engorgment Charm?"

Glumberry and Dumbledore backed out of the room, closed the door and Dumbledore took out his wand to magically lock it. Panicking, Liam, Harry and Hermione ran forward. Dumbledore and Glumberry looked up, and a wide smile appeared under their long silver moustaches.

"Well?" said Dumbledore quietly.

"We did it," all three of them said in unison.

"Sirius is gone ..." said Harry.

"On Buckbeak," said Liam.

The two headmasters beamed at them.

"Well done, the three of you!" said Glumberry. "Well, go on in, we'll lock you in."

The three of them rushed into the Hospital Wing. It was empty, Tessa was the only one there. Liam spun around. Where was Ron?

"Where's –?"

He broke off. Tessa had been shaking. Liam went off to her.

"Tess, what happened? Where's Ron?"

She hesitated, but slowly and shakily her hand rose, and she pointed toward the bed in which Ron had lay in. On the wall, above the bed, had been words spelt in some red substance. Liam walked closer to it. Oozing down the wall was indeed blood, and the message read out:

 ** _I suppose a Bloodtraitor would suffice_**

"Ron," murmured Liam.

"I – I don't know what happened –" stammered Tessa. "I – it just went dark and – that laugh – Scorpiosting's laugh – it came back again, and – oh, the lights turned on and – Ron – Ron was gone –"

"Hey, it's OK," said Liam, pulling off a blanket from the nearest bedspread and throwing it over Tessa. "It's not your fault."

She hadn't been convinced; she started crying. From fear or worry, Liam did not know.

"Granger, fill me in on a Bloodtraitor?" Liam asked.

"Pureblood family or individual who believes in equality between them and the Muggleborns," said Hermione shakily.

Liam's head spun. Scorpiosting wanted a Muggleborn because he despised the race, did he have the same feelings towards Bloodtraitors? In that case, Ron was in trouble. But where would he be and how could they stop Scorpiosting? Liam cursed under his breath, he felt hopeless again, and the pain on his side wasn't helping him concentrate.

He doubted he would find a way to save Ron even if he could concentrate. Scorpiosting was even more elusive than Sirius Black. He appeared to the Hogwarts students only as a voice. And where would a voice hide?

"I'm out of options ... I dunno what to do," said Liam. "I mean, apart from the Chamber of Secrets style threats –" he pointed to the bloody message on the wall, "we have no other leads to find Scorpiosting or even stop him."

"That's nonsense!" Hermione snapped, tucking away her Time Turner. She looked angry, and, for once, prepared to do something about it. She began storming off to the door of the Hospital Wing.

"Hermione!" Liam called after her, but she didn't stop. She pulled the door open and was off. Liam looked at Harry, nodded toward Tessa and then went after her himself. Hermione stomped her way across the corridor. "Hermione! Come on, where're you off to?"

"The Headmasters's office," said Hermione, not even sparing a glance back. Liam caught up to her.

"Didn't you hear me?" he asked her. "We don't know where to begin, Scorpiosting's won. We don't know how to beat him –"

 _"_ _Rubbish!"_ spat Hermione. "There's got to be a way! Ron needs our help, Liam, and the only way we can save him is if we ask the Headmasters for help. They're bound to know how to stop Scorpiosting ... it's got to do something with that chest, I know it."

Liam stopped dead.

The chest ... something was trying to knock its way into his mind. He couldn't catch onto it, but he thought he had the answer. Liam hit his head hard in an attempt to knock it in him, but it did nothing but give him a headache. Liam shook his head. Hermione was already on the other side of the corridor, swiftly turning into the next.

She disappeared; Liam could hear her feet clapping on the floor. He ran after her, and then stopped again. He felt another pang of pain in his side, but it was a pain greater than ever before. He clutched his side, but it did nothing to ease the pain. He found himself on his knees and his vision began to blur ... it wasn't yet midnight, what was happening?

"Hermione!" he called, but it came out a weak whimper. Liam doubled over on the floor, and suddenly he was in darkness ... but he felt conscious and very well aware of the pain. He looked around trying to identify what little he could see through his blurring vision. He was still in the corridor; he could vaguely make out the holsters on the walls, their flames gone.

Then he felt something nearby, a presence. Somebody was there to help. Liam crawled to indicate his being on the floor, but as he moved he had the feeling that something bad was about to happen. _How could it get anymore worse than this?_

Blinking, Liam's vision focused and unfocused as he looked around. He could barely see anything anymore, just dark blotches in an even darker background. Suddenly, the pain had gotten worse. Liam didn't think it could, but it did. It purged through more than just his side, pumping through his entire body as though all the fatigue his parents managed to subdue had come back.

Liam cringed and grunted, everything to notify that looming presence that he had been in pain and on the floor. He refrained from screaming, that would be too alarming, but he couldn't hold it in as he spun around on his back. He yelled loudly and his eyes were tearing up.

And then that laugh came again. In his head, prominently louder than he had ever heard it, he heard Scorpiosting's menacing laugh ringing in his ears just before he had lost consciousness.

Liam started to think that his tendency to faint had made him prone to headaches. He wanted to fall back into unconsciousness so that he couldn't feel anymore of the pain, but his aching body just reminded him that he had little time to live.

It was cold. Liam could actually see the air he breathed, and his arms and legs shivered. He was lying on the floor. On one side of him lay Hermione, who was knocked out. On the other side of him was ... Ron.

"Ron!" Liam stood and started walking toward his friend, but something pulled him back.

Liam looked at his arms, they were shackled and he had been tethered to a high wall. He looked around and could immediately tell where they were. It was a long, dimly lit chamber that glowed with an odd greenish gloom. Towering them were stoned pillars, entwined liked snakes.

They were in the Chamber of Secrets.

Liam could feel his breath seize; his heart thumping swiftly, he could hear it pumping in his ears. Of course Scorpiosting would have taken them here, this was his loyal companion's most sacred place ... where he held the basilisk. The great snake had been nothing but bones, and its skeleton spread out across the chamber lane, reaching the giant, monkeyish face of Salazar Slytherin.

Liam slumped back onto the floor. Chained to the wall in the Chamber of Secrets ... could he ever feel more hopeless? His best hope was to find a way to escape, but how. This chamber was millions of years old, there had to be a way of escaping them.

There was a sound to his side. Ron had been stirring. Liam looked at his broken leg. Ron was in a very awkward position, he couldn't possibly get up without injuring more of it.

"Careful, Ron, your leg," said Liam. He sat back. There was no way he could reach Ron with these shackles on, they were too short for that ... and perhaps rusty ... he could maybe try pulling the chain out of the wall. Did he have enough strength to do that?

Ron had narrowly averted any major damage to his leg, but he still cried out in pain as he hauled himself to sit against the chamber wall. His leg was still awkwardly positioned, but less than before. He sat there in silence for a while, breathing in the icy air.

"Blimey, it's cold," Ron commented. He tried hauling himself into a more comfortable position but his leg wasn't allowing it. Ron cringed. "Where are we?"

"Chamber of Secrets," said Liam plainly.

Ron froze.

"You're pulling my leg ..." said Ron uncertainly.

"Nope. That over there –" he pointed at Slytherin's monkeyish face, "that's a statue of Salazar Slytherin. And over there, my friend –" he pointed at the bones of the great big snake, "that is the basilisk."

"I'm bloody grateful we don't have to worry about that!" sighed Ron. "That thing could eat us up in one gulp!"

"Not unless you blind it," said Liam. Ron looked at him. "Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, he came and he scratched its eyes out. Blinded the thing so that it couldn't kill us when it looked at us. The phoenix was our ride out, and we told you before, how could you not remember it?"

"I dunno, maybe the sight of the basilisk's bones just muddled my mind," said Ron.

"This is insane," said Liam. "We're shackled in the Chamber of Secrets at Scorpiosting's peril and we're having a jolly good conversation." Liam sighed. His mind had gone blank. "I'm going to die at midnight."

"Mmmm ..." Liam peered over his shoulder; Hermione had woken up. He shifted around so that he could speak to both Ron and her. "What – where are we."

"Chamber of Secrets," repeated Liam.

Hermione froze.

"Slytherin – basilisk –" he introduced quickly, pointing, again, at the statue and the bones of the basilisk. Looking at Hermione made him realise something: they were chained to the wall, abducted by Sargas Scorpiosting, with a Muggleborn in their company; Hermione was in danger. "Oh no –"

The menacing laugh came back again, reverberating through the chamber, deeply and darkly. Then claps, slow claps, had followed after. Along the lane, beside the basilisk, walked a man in long, dark robes embroidered with green fastenings. It billowed behind him as he strolled toward them.

"I must say, Mr Clark, you speculate ideas very quickly ... you would have been a very cunning student of mine if you decided to stay," said that voice. The very same voice they had heard once at dinner and earlier that day. Liam heard his boots clap across the floor as he came to a halt before them.

"You're –" Liam had never really thought Scorpiosting had his body. In fact, even in the Chamber of Secrets, he had believed that Scorpiosting wasn't the man behind this. But now, as he stood in front of them, Liam could not believe his eyes. He was a million years old, but he looked as young as his mother and father. He bore a remarkable resemblance to Ronan Droge, or was it just his nerves tricking him into seeing the true face of evil?

Sargas Scorpiosting, in his long, black robes, stood there grinning. His face was long and pointy. His cheeks sunken and his eyes cast under dark rings. Liam was unsure if it was permanent, but it surely fit his description: creepy and scary. His hair was dark, curly and sleek, cascading down to his knees. Liam wondered how a man as old as him could look as young as he did.

"How did you manage to – to look like that after a _million_ years?" he asked before thinking.

Scorpiosting scoffed.

"Dark magic, of course," he said simply. "The kind I would not suggest you urge me to elaborate. It's too delicate for a young audience." He stared at Liam as though expecting him to ask the question, to ask 'what kind of Dark Magic' ... it was a valid question. Liam now knew there were forms of the Dark Arts that could keep you alive for a millennium, but how? How did it work? Did it require an incantation or something else?

Scorpiosting scoffed again, as though reading his mind and thinking that his thoughts were entertaining.

"Why are you doing this?" Liam asked.

"Although I may have managed to keep myself pristine, I still face a predicament," Scorpiosting wheeled around and meandered off to something in the middle of the lane, just beside the basilisk's bones. It was a podium, knee length, and on top of it had been the Scorpion Chest, glistening brightly even in the green glow of the Chamber of Secrets. "My life is dependant on this chest in many ways. I would tell you my story, but I daresay you know it already."

Scorpiosting stood in the way of the chest so that Liam could not see what he had been doing. He knew, though, that whatever it was it couldn't be good.

"Why I want a Muggleborn ... I believe you know the answer to that, too," said Scorpiosting. He turned and his eyes scanned Hermione, who averted his gaze. "I was from the medieval times, Mr Clark. Witches and wizards ... Purebloods were being burnt and killed by _her_ kind," he pointed at Hermione. "Of course, we had to retaliate. Practitioners of the Dark Arts delved in a kind of magic where you could strengthen your health with the blood of Muggles and Muggleborns."

Liam looked at Hermione. She had curled up and retreated as far on the wall as she could. They had to be a way to prevent this. There had to be a way to kill Scorpiosting forever.

"But, there's a reason why I took you, too," laughed Scorpiosting. "Mr Clark, I have to admit, you were going to die either way. I planned to meet you before or after the sacrifice, assuming the sickness hadn't killed you first."

"Why?" asked Liam.

"There's a certain wizard, the very same who gave you that scar, who would have liked to see it done," said Scorpiosting. "I would have obliged had he asked me, because, as Tom Riddle is Slytherin's Heir, Louis Nord is mine. And he has a very clear vision for the world. Imagine wizards ruling, living in harmony without a single Muggle or Muggleborn in sight."

"That's not harmony, that's corruption!" said Liam. "That would be a world full of murderers!"

"Oh, well ... you've always had a lack of understanding in that region," said Scorpiosting. "See, that's where you go wrong if you're a Slytherin student. If you think you could live in peace and harmony with the _Muggles_ , then you're not a Slytherin and you never will be."

"It's a good thing I moved, then," said Liam.

Scorpiosting fell silent. He rounded his chest once more, and then turned to face Liam again, "I sense a profound fear in the air."

He was right about that. Liam was on a tight schedule. Here they were with Scorpiosting and the chest. In a couple of minutes, perhaps half an hour, either Hermione would be executed or the entire school goes down. Either way, Liam would die and Scorpiosting and Lord Valindor win. He had to think quickly and hope Scorpiosting couldn't read his mind.

"How would one stop this sickness?" asked Liam. "You know, apart from this ... sacrifice?"

Scorpiosting stared at him. Liam sat there uncomfortably, his brain trying to steam into gear but it wasn't working. He only just managed to muster something.

"If I'm not going to make it out of here alive, then you might as well ... make conversation," Liam hoped that had done the trick.

Scorpiosting examined Liam for a moment. He seemed to realise that they had been bound to the wall, with no means of escape, how could they attempt to do anything to ruin his plan?

"To cure the plague ... either I stop it manually or you kill me," he laughed, as if he was almost celebrating his triumph, "which can only be done if you destroy the chest. If it is dead, I die with it. My life is drawn to it ... all my secrets ... you could nearly say it's a bit of my soul ..."

"And how d'you destroy the chest?" asked Liam.

"Curious, aren't you?"

"Well, it is my last few moments alive, so ..." he had no idea how he had been keeping his composure; his hands were shaking in his lap.

"Selective weaponry," said Scorpiosting. "The likely one would be Phoenixdan's sword."

"Phoenixdan had a sword?" asked Liam.

"All the nobles got a sword," said Scorpiosting. "And who were more noble than Godric Gryffindor and Phelix Phoenixdan? Yes, he had a sword. Goblin-made ... of course I had to make one of the things that could destroy the chest the sword of my enemy."

"And where is it?" asked Liam.

"Displayed somewhere in Hogwarts," he said.

Great, so they knew how to kill Scorpiosting but did not have the one weapon that could. Scorpiosting whisked away in haste, regarding his chest. Liam looked at it and he felt unnerved, like something was inside it, waiting to come out.

Scorpiosting bounded back, walking straight to Hermione. He stood, towering her, "Soon, dearest, your blood will mark my return to Wizarding society."

"You're _mad!"_ Liam remarked. He knew that was a bad mistake, but he was uncomfortable at how close he now stood to Hermione. Scorpiosting glared at him. But then his sinister grin returned.

"It would appear we have guests," and he turned to the entrance of the chamber. In came Mr Clark (oh, how happy he had been that he did), who was holding a sword, and Venus. Scorpiosting looked tentatively at the sword before continuing. "What a wonderful family reunion. I was just telling your son, here, that he wouldn't make it out of her alive."

"Like hell!" growled his father.

"How on earth did you learn about your son's whereabouts?" asked Scorpiosting.

"A friendly ghost by the name of Myrtle," said Mr Clark. "Give me back my son, Scorpiosting! And his friends!"

Scorpiosting disappeared in thin air and reappeared on the lane, respectively close to Mr Clark and Venus.

"I'm afraid, if you want them, you're going to have to fight me," said Scorpiosting.

Mr Clark charged with Venus following suit. Liam had never known that his father had been skilled with a sword. Scorpiosting duelled with his hands, and his father reflected every spell with the sword, adding slashes and jabs with the blade.

Whilst Mr Clark did the physical work, Venus stood aside, casting off spells in Scorpiosting's direction. At this rate they would have won.

Liam noticed Scorpiosting had been anxious at the sight of the sword his father came with. It had been encrusted with rubies just like Gryffindor's, so Liam gathered that it must have been Phoenixdan's sword. But how did his father know to bring that sword and not Gryffindor's, or a sword at all? Why did he decide he would bring one?

Scorpiosting was nearly brought to the ground, but he grabbed ahold of the sword and ripped it from Mr Clark's grasp, then he shot Venus off his feet with a spell, leaving him dazed beside a snake pillar. Scorpiosting then knocked Mr Clark down with the hilt of the sword and as he lay, he lifted the blade above him.

 _"_ _NO!"_ roared Liam. He fought against the shackles, trying in his best effort to break through them.

Scorpiosting looked up at Liam, and then he smile. He lowered his hand with the sword and pulled Mr Clark to his feet. He thrust the sword into Mr Clark stomach and made sure he held it tightly. Liam saw his father mumbling, something he couldn't read.

"I think that it would be more entertaining if Mr Clark had killed _himself,"_ said Scorpiosting.

"No!" whispered Liam. His father's eyes met his. They were lost. He was giving up. "No ..."

Scorpiosting stepped aside and held out a hand, _"Imperio!"_ a purple, wispy beam shot out of his hand and hit Mr Clark. He looked dazed. Scorpiosting rounded in on him and pressed his lips to his ear, "You're going to take this sword, Thomas Clark, and you're going to leave. Once you are out of sight, you will stab yourself in the most fatal part of your body to ensure your death."


	20. The Magnificent Charm of Thomas Clark

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The Magnificent Charm of Thomas Clark

The world caved in on him when he saw his father straighten up, clutch the sword tightly and then, slowly, walk out. Liam had hoped that his father had the willpower to resist Scorpiosting's order, and he thought he may have when his father's eyes had met his. He went numb as his father lumbered of, his hand twitching around the hilt of the sword.

"NO!" was all Liam could yell, the only thing that came to mind. "NO" he fought against the chains, pulling with all his might, the cold cuffs holding him back. His father was nearly out of sight. "NO! VENUS! VENUS, WAKE UP!"

The professor woke up, dazed. He was blinking his eyes and Liam knew he probably couldn't hear him in time to catch up to his dad.

"VENUS! MY DAD! VENUS, WAKE UP!" Venus sat up and shook his head, then he stared at Liam, suddenly remembering why he was there in the first place. "Never mind about us! My dad, Venus, he's going to kill himself!"

"What? How?" asked Venus.

"Scorpiosting!" yelled Liam. "Go help him!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

Venus gave him a look before speeding off after Mr Clark, who had long since disappeared into the tunnel. Liam couldn't take his eyes of the entrance. He hoped that Venus had the chance to snap his father out of it soon so that they could come back and help, but it was nearly midnight. He didn't have a watch or any physical proof, but he knew that the time was near.

Scorpiosting appeared out of nowhere, grinning madly at Hermione.

"It's a swift process," said Scorpiosting. "You need not worry ..." he clicked his fingers and Hermione's cuffs opened, freeing her. "Get up, you filthy Mudblood! The process should be sealed by midnight, which means you die before then."

Hermione's eyes met Liam's. His heart dropped and he shook his head, trying to tell her that she shouldn't go. But she stood. And against his attempt to make her stay, she walked, slowly, but she walked. He called for her but she didn't stop. Liam fought against the chains again, more than determine to break them in order to stop Hermione. They didn't budge.

"NO! Hermione, stop!" he called, but she kept going. "Hermione –"

"For the sake of the school!" she muttered.

"No! You, above all people, do not give up! You showed that to me just now when you wanted to go to Dumbledore and Glumberry for help!" he half-expected the Headmasters bursting in to save them. But no one came and Hermione was still walking toward Scorpiosting.

"Hermione!" Ron managed; he was still moaning from the awkward position his leg was in.

Liam could not bear this. He struggled and struggled and then an idea popped in his head, "I volunteer!" Hermione staggered to a halt and Scorpiosting looked at him. Ron choked beside him. "I volunteer to die for the sake of your ... health and the school!"

"No –"

"You would substitute yourself," said Scorpiosting, suddenly appearing in front of him, "for the life of a Mudblood?"

"Yes," said Liam.

"And why is that?" asked Scorpiosting.

"I've been on Death's list for a while, haven't I. Besides, you said I would die either way ..." said Liam. "If you're killing me for Valindor's sake, then you might as well get over with it. Why put the effort of killing two? Let her go, kill me instead."

"No –"

"Silence, Mudblood!" he raised his hand. Scorpiosting's cold eyes bore into his. There was a kind of hunger in them, a hunger that should have scared Liam. But he'd face death twice before, the feeling wasn't going to change the third time around. "You're a fool for doing this," he clicked his fingers and Liam's shackles came off, "but your reasoning has saved your Mudblood friend's life ... for now."

Scorpiosting disappeared and reappeared by the chest. "Quickly, bound her to the wall and then meet your destiny, _Boy Who Lived ..."_

Liam made his way to Hermione, and before he could do anything, she took his hand and pulled him into a hug.

"No time," he breathed. "You've already said your goodbyes, 'member."

Hermione cried.

"Don't do this," she sobbed. He had a plan, or hoped one would pop into mind, rather (he liked the idea that he _had_ a plan when he didn't). He had no weapon. His wand was up in the Hospital Wing, he had put it there when he wrapped the blanket around Tessa. He didn't think he would need it to chase after Hermione. His other weapon, Phoenixdan's sword, was in the hands of his father, who was itching to drive its blade through his heart.

"I have to," he whispered. "You shouldn't have been brought into this." He pushed away from her and pulled her towards the shackles, bounding her to the wall.

"Do you have a plan?" asked Hermione hopefully.

"No, I'm weaponless," said Liam.

He stood, and then walked on, finding it odd that his pocket had been slightly heavier than he remembered. Putting his hand in, he realised that he had a wand. But it wasn't his wand, it was smaller, and the design felt different. He turned to face Hermione ... it was her wand.

He had a weapon! Unfortunately not the one that would destroy Scorpiosting and his chest. Liam walked onto the lane. He stared at Scorpiosting, who had his hands on his golden chest.

"You have a weapon, don't you?" asked Scorpiosting. _Well that ruined my plan!_ "That's all right, it will make this much more entertaining ..." Entertaining? Liam didn't have time to wonder just what was so entertaining about this; Scorpiosting had opened the chest and stepped aside into the gloomy darkness.

Liam stared at it. There was nothing in there but he couldn't shake off the feeling that something bad was going to happen. He stared into the depths of the chest, but nothing.

And then, slowly, a stinger, about the size of a head, appeared from the midst of the chest. Following it was a body and eight legs crawled out of it, pincers snapping at the air as it landed on the ground. It was a great big scorpion, pale white with a black stinger. Liam hated spiders because of their legs. How those arachnids moved all eight of them had freaked him out. He never met a scorpion enough to know that they had eight legs too, and he didn't want to go into a search to figure out any other insect that did.

He pulled out Hermione's wand and aimed it at the scorpion. He gathered that this had been Scorpiosting's pet, the 'Nepascorpio' that may have caused the founder's companion to fall sick and grow mad. He wondered what would happen if he got stung. Would he become more sick or grow mad before he died?

The scorpion charged for its target with such speed that Liam only just moved out of the way. He tumbled to the floor, rolling away as the scorpion pulled its stinger out of the ground. _That would have been me_. And he began to think of a head-sized hole in the middle of his body.

Liam stood and tore away just as the scorpion charged at him again. He could feel his chest getting heavy again, and his head cloudy. Scorpiosting's disease was getting worse. He had the feeling that that had been because the very thing that caused it was now zipping around trying to kill him; it had _sensed_ its original host. All Liam knew was that this sickness was going to slow him down, and it wouldn't be long until the scorpion had finally found its target.

"You are on tight time, Mr Clark," said Scorpiosting. He was standing aside with his hands behind his back, smiling. "Just remember, at midnight you die, and the rest of Hogwarts with you."

He didn't know the time, or how long he had until midnight struck, but it was soon. He would need to destroy this thing fast. But how? He didn't have Phoenixdan's sword, and it had been the only thing that would kill Scorpiosting and his crazy pet.

The scorpion came pelting towards him once more, and Liam jumped out of the way, landing hard on his back. He grunted. There was no way he would make it out of this alive. He stood and looked around, his brain working like cogs fixing into gear. The scorpion came again, and Liam jumped. If he kept doing this, midnight would strike and he would die. If he stopped, the scorpion would strike and he would die.

Everything was his enemy now. Even time seemed to relent him.

He looked around and saw something he didn't believe was there. Phoenixdan's sword, lying on the ground in the corner of the chamber. The very same one he saw just moments before. But how? His father had taken it to – to – he didn't want to think about that, all he knew was that it was nearly impossible that Phoenixdan's sword was here.

He grabbed it firmly, and hope surge through him as he held it up. Scorpiosting looked shocked. His eyes grew wide.

"How –"

"Not so hopeful now, are we?" asked Liam. The scorpion bounded toward Liam, and as he jumped out of the way he swung the sword. He slashed the scorpion, leaving it with a gaping gash oozing black blood.

It shrieked in pain and Liam got to his feet and broke into a run. The only way he would destroy the scorpion, Scorpiosting and the plague was to destroy the chest and now he had the one thing that could. He drew the sword back as he ran and was about to bring it down when he was knocked right off his feet. Scorpiosting had appeared in front of the chest.

He laughed.

"You thought it would be that easy?" he scoffed. "Now, Boy Who Lived, you face me _and_ my wonderful creation!"

Liam barely had enough time to push himself out of the way when the scorpion came at him this time. He scuttled onto his feet and to the far end of the chamber. It chased him around it.

"If you want to beat me then you're going to have to put up a fight!" said Scorpiosting.

Liam, with the scorpion at his feet, started thinking again. How was he going to get to Scorpiosting's chest and destroy it without being impaled by his bloodthirsty scorpion? He thought, and then he stopped in his tracks and moved as he held the sword in the way of the scorpion. It did exactly what he thought it would, it ran straight through the sword. It's stinger had been chopped off and it lay somewhere on the other side of the chamber. That was how to prevent impalement from a scorpion: cut off its stinger.

 _Praise my impulsivity._ He said to himself. That was one of the only instances his impulsivity saved him in a situation. He brainstormed, thinking of ways he could successfully do this, but his mind kept landing on one conclusion: running towards the thing and taking every chance he had in destroying the chest.

He spun and faced Scorpiosting.

"His stinger will reform," said Scorpiosting.

"Not before midnight," said Liam, grinning

The scowl Scorpiosting gave him justified that that was true. Clutching both Hermione's wand and Phoenixdan's sword, with time as his enemy, slowly running out, Liam charged. The sword was held high above his head and he shot a spell before Scorpiosting could react.

" _Petrificus Totalus!"_ he yelled and Scorpiosting became stiff as a board and fell. He must had needed that health to block of a petty spell like that. Not stopping, Liam swung the sword on the chest.

The chest exploded, emitting a gooey black substance similar to the blood congealed around the brim. The scorpion, in the corner, had writhed with half its tail forming, and in a hissing fit it exploded into goo. Scorpiosting, on the other hand, yelled in pain. Moments later he was engulfed by a bright light and he, too, was gone.

Liam had been blown back from the impact and landed hard on his shoulder. A pain had exploded in his arm but nothing could ruin this feeling. No more of that stupid plague!

The next moment, Hermione came rushing to his side. The shackles must have released them.

"Liam! Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said, sitting up and clutching his aching shoulder. "Think I may have broken my shoulder, but I'm fine."

And she tackled him with a hug. He cringed as the impact moved his shoulder, but he hugged her back and couldn't be more happy to do so.

"I'm alive," he muttered. He looked past her shoulder. Phoenixdan's sword was still wedged in the broken chest, shimmering valiantly in the glowing green gloom of the Chamber of Secrets. He still wondered how it happened to be there, how it came to him when he most needed it. But then it hit him. His father had mumbled something before he left. A spell, perhaps? Whatever he did, he managed to save his son.

"By the way, you're a bloody genius," he whispered in Hermione's ear.

Hermione pushed him away and stood, blushing.

"Well, how else would you survive," said Hermione, holding her hand out.

"How did you know I didn't have my wand?" he asked, taking her hand.

She pulled him up. "Oh, I saw you put your wand down when you wrapped Tessa in a blanket. I didn't think you had the sense of remembering it when you came after me."

Hermione's sarcasm had brightened up his mood even more.

"Gee, thanks," said Liam. "But really, thank you. You saved my life."

Liam sighed and took in the air, being able to really take advantage of what he could take in with this disease flushed out of his system.

"Let's get Ron and get out of here," said Liam.


	21. Owl Post

CHAPTER TWENTY

Owl Post

Liam had to admit, he was nervous when midnight struck. He vividly imagined dropping dead when he saw the time on Hermione's watch. When he didn't, he smiled. _This thing is really gone!_ He hurt from head to toe, but he was happy to say that none of it had been because of Scorpiosting's 'Scorpomorbus'. He was covered in black goo, but he didn't care. All the way back to the castle and the Hospital Wing, he smiled, and Hermione and Ron were a little curious as to why (he didn't tell them). His shoulder hurt most. He landed hard on it, but the joy he felt that very moment was more than enough to put up against it.

It took longer to reach the Hospital Wing; they had hauled Ron across the castle. When they reached it, though, they met a much grimmer atmosphere than they would have hoped. Once bursting through the dormitory doors, they found everybody crowded in there. His mother sat on one of the bedspreads with Professor Sunderland consoling her; Liam wondered why she had been in there, comforting her mother as if they were best friends. Venus and Lupin stood around the bed in which Ron had been on, where Harry and Tessa had been sitting.

Everyone was there. All except his dad.

Liam froze on the spot. He barely noticed Harry and Tessa bustling Ron out of his grasp. Together, they pulled him to the very same bed, but Liam kept looking forward, scanning the crowd for his father. And then, with a flood of relief, he stood. Overlooking the crowd, Thomas Clark looked directly at his son.

Liam barely felt his legs moving, but moments later he had tackled his father in a hug.

"Oh, Junior!" his father cried; Liam had never heard such relief in his voice before. "I thought you _died!"_

"Me?" Liam pushed his dad away, "I thought _you_ died!" and he gave him a playful punch on the shoulder.

"Not this year," his father bragged. "Not next year."

Liam laughed.

He was so happy that even he could not explain it. The plague was gone. His father was alive. Harry wasn't targeted by a loony jail breaker. Sirius and Buckbeak had been saved. How happier could he get?

"How did you manage to keep the Sword in there?" Liam asked. It was a burning question that he was dying to ask.

"Intricate NEWT level spell," his father said simply. "But who cares! You're alive! You're bloody alive!"

His father had picked him up and spun him around, then put him back down in a dizzy whir. Gathering his bearings, Liam looked at Harry. His cousin had the largest smile on. He could see that he was just as relieved as Mr Clark that he was still alive. He could also see the fact that he was itching to do something about it.

Liam opened up his arms and then said, "I love my hugs, Harry."

Harry walked to him. Running would have looked weird, even Liam knew that. Harry stood in front of him, smiled and then hugged him.

The joy lasted about two seconds. Liam felt incredibly awkward doing this. Luckily for him, Hermione and Tessa were very emotional, too. They joined the hug; Liam could feel that awkward feeling lift.

They let go of him. Liam turned around and faced his mother. Her eyes were puffy and red. Her face glistening with recently shed tears. Liam opened his arms out again, and his mother embraced him tightly, clinging onto him. Liam thought he had faced the worst criers in Hermione and Tessa, but his mother's tear fell like a waterfall into his shirt.

"Oh, my dear boy –" she pulled away and smacked a kiss on his forehead. "My dear, dear boy –" she had almost suffocated him, bringing him close and wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Can't breathe, mum –" struggled Liam.

"Sorry, dear," his mother said, pushing him away. "I'm just – _so happy!"_

Liam laughed again.

"So ..." he began. "Can somebody fill me up on the Ministry, the Potionsmaster and the 'escaped murderer'?"

The first time Harry heard it, he thought he _hadn't._ His Uncle Tom had said it, and he and Liam had made to go see them before they would leave. The classroom door had been open. Both Venus and Lupin had nearly finished packing. The grindylow's empty tank stood next to Lupin's battered old suitcase. Lupin was bending over something, and Venus had their backs turned to them, fiddling with what Harry suspected had been his own trunk.

"It's pleasant that you would come see us on our final day," said Venus. He turned and smiled at them. What was behind him had indeed been his trunk.

"We saw you coming," said Lupin smiling. He pointed at an old piece of parchment near them. The Marauder's Map.

"We were just told that you both resigned. Is that true?" asked Harry.

"Yes, it is," said Lupin. "Snape – I think the loss of the Order of Merlin took him hard – he let slip that I was a werewolf."

"Then why are _you_ leaving?" asked Liam, pointing at Venus.

Venus sighed, "He let slip that I knew about it, too. I took this job as a way of showing parents and the Wizarding community that I was good and that I wasn't the murderer they made me out to be. Teaching aside my best friend werewolf isn't a good fresh start. I started receiving complaints stating that I had been 'aiding an animal' to teach the kids ... I think it came from someone working under Malfoy or McElroy ..."

"So take it up! Both of you," said Liam. "My parents can –"

"You shouldn't be so dependent on your parents, Liam," said Lupin. "One day they're going to need you. You're not going to tell them to work it out on their own, now will you?"

"No ..." Liam answered softly. "B-but you're leaving because of Snape?"

"Venus has already told you that he has received complaints about – aiding an animal ..." Lupin seemed uncomfortable about that statement. "Tomorrow morning, owls will come from parents and they will not like the fact that a werewolf is teaching the students. After last night, I see their point. I could have bitten any one of you ... that can never happen again."

"But you two have been the best Defence Against the Dark Arts professors we've ever had!" said Harry. "Don't go!"

"What about Wigan?" Venus asked.

"The only thing we got out of him was how to stop Gilderoy Lockhart from disrupting the lesson," said Liam. "He was a good teacher, I'm not arguing about that, but Lockhart ..."

Wigan and Lupin exchanged looks, and then continued with their packing. Harry looked at Liam, and he looked back. They were both trying to find something, anything, to convince them to stay, but their trail of thought had been interrupted.

"We're exceedingly proud of you boys," said Venus. "The headmasters told us you saved quite a lot of lives ... some of us more than we expected." He looked at Liam with that mischievous grin of his. "What did the scorpion look like?"

"Damn scary ..." said Liam.

Venus laughed. Lupin grinned.

"And what about your Patronus, Harry?" asked Lupin.

"How'd you know about that?" asked Harry.

Grinning, Lupin and Venus looked at each other, and he continued, "Who else would have driven those dementors back?"

Harry and Liam told them what had happened last night. Venus and Lupin's smiles never leaving their faces.

"We called your father Prongs because of that," said Venus. "Because his Animagus was a Stag. D'you know why we called your father Silverpaw, Liam?"

"That scar on his hand," said Liam. "He told me it turned silver when he was a wolf ... he told me that, too. He can turn into a wolf. I always assumed he got that scar holding something hot, never that he'd been wrestling you, Professor."

"Well ... your father was among the most childish," said Lupin. "Him plus James Potter was trouble enough. Could you imagine putting Venus and Sirius in the picture?"

Ironically, Harry had thought of Liam's photograph where all four of them had literally been in a picture, creating as much chaos as possible.

"I've got a pretty good idea," said Harry, grinning. He could now look at that picture and be proud to say that Sirius Black had been his godfather.

"Here, I thought you might want this back," said Lupin, handing him his Invisibility Cloak. "I brought it back from the Shrieking Shack."

"And you can't be the sons of James Potter and Thomas Clark without this," said Venus, handing them the Marauder's Map. "Use it wisely. If its damaged at any point of your life, just know the Marauder's are very protective about their belongings.

There was a knock on the door. Harry quickly hid both the Marauder's Map and his Invisibility Cloak. Professor Dumbledore and Professor Glumberry arrived, and they both did not find it odd for Harry and Liam to be there. They both beamed at them.

"Your carriage awaits, Remus, Venus," said Dumbledore.

Lupin and Sting, from behind their desk, picked up two bags each and Lupin held the empty Grindylow cage in his one hand.

"Well, bye then," said Lupin. "It's been a pleasure teaching the both of you."

"And enriching you with such wonderful delicacies," added Venus, eyeing the pocket Harry hid the Marauder's Map.

"I have a feeling that we shall meet again," said Lupin. "There's no need to walk us to the gates, Headmasters, we'll be fine on our own ..."

"Farewell, then, Remus, Venus," said Glumberry.

Lupin and Venus left the classroom shortly after shaking both Dumbledore and Glumberry's hands. Harry and Liam looked at each other glumly and then sighed.

"You two should be proud after what you did last night," said Professor Dumbledore.

"That doesn't change anything," said Harry. "Pettigrew got away."

"No?" asked Glumberry. "Did you learn the truth, Harry?"

"Yes –"

"Did you not save two innocent lives?"

"Yes, but –"

"Then tell me again," said Glumberry, his eyes peering over his round spectacles, "what difference did it make?"

Harry went quiet.

"You do, of course, know what you've done, don't you?" asked Dumbledore.

Harry and Liam looked at him blankly.

"Professor Trelawney's prophecy – yes, we're aware of that –" said Dumbledore. "You've done a very interesting thing, the two of you. In the common language of today, we would say that you've _turned_ it."

"'Turned' a prophecy?" Liam asked.

"Changed its true meaning," explained Dumbledore.

"'Changed its true meaning'?" asked Liam again.

"Why, yes," said Glumberry. "The prophecy stated that Potter would die and so would Clark. Potter by hand of murder and Clark by hand of sickness. If any of that were true, I daresay, you two would not be standing here today."

"But what about that part about Pettigrew? I stopped Lupin, Venus and Sirius from killing him," said Harry. "If he brings back the Dark Lords, then it's my fault."

"Pettigrew owes his life to you, Harry. You have sent Voldemort and Valindor a deputy who is in your debt ... When one wizard saves another wizard's life, it creates a certain bond between them ... and I'm much mistaken if the Dark Lords want their servant in the debt of Harry Potter," said Dumbledore.

"But I don't want to be connected with Pettigrew!" said Harry. "He betrayed my parents!"

"There will be a time where you will be grateful Pettigrew saved your life," said Glumberry. "This is magic at its deepest, its most impenetrable."

Harry didn't see when there would be a moment where Peter Pettigrew would save his life.

"It is passing time that gives us what we want," said Dumbledore. "And, of course, your ambition to see Remus and Venus again. They are, of course, your fathers' best friends."

"Enjoy the ceremony," said Glumberry.

And Dumbledore and Glumberry left the classroom.

Liam and Harry rejoined Ron, Hermione and Tessa in the common room later that afternoon. They had some time to spare before the ending ceremony. Liam had ranted on about how unfair it was that Sirius would never be proven innocent, like Venus. After that statement, Harry was lost in thought. Sirius had offered him to stay with him. The Clarks had done so, too, a year before, and Harry was wondering why he hadn't just packed his bags and told the Knight Bus to drive to them instead.

When he mentioned to the Dursleys that the Clarks would like to see him before the end of the holidays, they laughed and told him that the Clarks were as dead as his parents. Soon after that, Aunt Marge arrived, and everything went downhill there. Harry had a certain kind of determination in him that motivated him to force the Dursleys into making him visit his other aunt and uncle. He was happy at the thought that if he pushed them long enough they would eventually give him up to the Clarks.

Sirius had said there was no hope of Harry living with him anymore. That he had hoped in being freed like Venus, but after the outcome of last night he had prompted Harry live with the Clarks instead. And he had no trouble with that, he was just bothered that Sirius would never be seen as a free man.

"You okay, Harry?" his cousin asked.

"Yeah," said Harry. "Just thinking about the holidays."

"We were, too," said Ron. "Listen, I was thinking you can all come to my house. I'll ask Mum and Dad, sure they wouldn't mind."

"Or ..." said Liam. "You can all come to my house. Seems you've been itching to see the Clark Mansion, hey Ron?"

"Well what can I saw, a _mansion!"_ said Ron.

Liam laughed.

"That's not the only thing," said Liam. "Dad's tuning our wireless to the Wizard Warrior World Cup. We'll be able to hear the entire tournament!"

"Can we not come home with you?" asked Ron, excitement riddled on his face.

"Dad's also hinting that he might remake some of the obstacles in the yard," said Liam. "They'll be harmless, of course, but just as much fun. My mom can occupy Hermione and Tessa. Probably retell her love potion story you both seemed to be very interested in."

"Be careful what you wish for, Liam," said Hermione – was that the first time Harry heard her say his name whilst smiling? "She might start telling us stories about one-year-old _Junior."_

Liam flushed red.

"Scratch that idea," said Liam.

"You two've let bygones be bygones for real, I suppose?" Harry asked.

"It took a life-threatening situation, but yeah," said Liam, who was still quite red. Then he screwed up his face, "I hope that's not how I solve _all_ of my problems."

They all laughed.

Harry certainly wasn't the only one who was sorry to see Professor Lupin and Professor Sting go. As they joined the rest of the school at the ceremony, he had noticed that the whole of his Defence Against the Dark Arts class was miserable about his resignation.

"Wonder what they'll give us next year?" said Seamus Finnigan gloomily.

"Maybe a vampire," suggested Dean Thomas hopefully.

"I have a feeling that all we'd learn from a vampire professor is his diet," joked Liam, looking at Von Seiler at the staff table. Harry hadn't yet got over his odd meals, either. "I wonder what Sopophorus Beans taste like ..."

After a while of endless chatting, the Great Hall became completely silent after hearing a fork hit a glass goblet. Dumbledore and Glumberry had been standing high above everyone, beaming down at the sea of students below them.

"Students of Hogwarts school," began Dumbledore, "we do give you news that Sirius Black has escaped, once again. But we do need to inform that he will not be a threat anymore. The Ministry's got it under control."

"Among that, we are glad," said Glumberry. "Glad that this treacherous plague is gone. And, I think, we would all like to thank the three students who made that happen. To Mr William Clark, Miss Hermione Granger and Mr Ronald Weasley, for showing their courage and bravery towards facing Sargas Scorpiosting, himself. Well done."

The Great Hall erupted into claps. Harry had noticed, through the corner of his eye, that Breeanne Shacklebolt – who he may or may not have seen sitting next to Cho Change – had peered over her in Liam's direction. He cousin, on the other hand, did not realise that. His head sunk low, nearly in his plate. Clearly, he had been in the spotlight many times before that he had gotten used to it.

"We hope that you enjoy the feast."

Harry was relieved to see Hedwig and Patches among the flitter of owls that came in the next moment. His snowy owl parched itself right next to Ron's plate of food, as though it desired to peck from it when he wasn't looking. Around her leg had been a letter. Harry pulled it off.

"It's from Sirius!" he said, softly so no one would hear him.

"Then read it out loud," said Ron.

"Not too loud," said Liam. "Don't want to alarm the whole school, do we?"

 _Dear Harry,_

 _I hope this finds you before you reach your aunt and uncle._ _I don'_ _t know whether they_ _'_ _re used to owl post._

 _Buckbeak and I are in hiding. I won_ _'_ _t tell you where, in_ _case this owl falls into the wrong hands. I have some doubt about his reliability, but he is the best I could find, and he did seem eager for the job._

 _I believe the dementors are still searching for me, but they haven_ _'_ _t a hope of finding me here. I am planning to allow some Muggles to glimpse me soon, a long way from Hogwarts, so that the security on the castle will be lifted._

 _There is something I never got around to telling you during our brief meeting. It was I who sent you the Firebolt_ _._

 _Crookshanks took the order to the Owl Office for me. I used your name but told them to take the gold from my own Gringotts vault. Please consider it as thirteen birthdays_ _'_ _worth of presents from your godfather._

 _I would also like to_ _apologise_ _for the fright I think I gave you that night last year when you left your uncle_ _'_ _s house. I had only hoped to get a glimpse of you before starting my journey north, but I think the sight of me alarmed you._

 _I am enclosing something else for you, which I think will make your next year at Hogwarts more enjoyable._

 _If ever you need me, send word. Your owl will find me._

 _I_ _'_ _ll write again soon._

 _Sirius_

Harry looked eagerly inside the envelope. There was another piece of parchment in there.

"Oh, by the way, Harry," said Liam. "Dad says he and mum talked to Dumbledore and Glumberry about Hogs–"

Harry handed Liam the letter.

 _I, Sirius Black, Harry Potter_ _'_ _s godfather, hereby give him permission to visit Hogsmeade on weekends._

"Well, they've done exactly this," said Liam, goggling at the letter. "Well, then, I guess it means you have more than one person looking over you."

"Yeah ..." said Harry. He felt as warm and happy as it would feel to gulp down a whole bottle of butterbeer. "Yeah, I do ..."


End file.
